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SON OF THE STAR. 



SKETCHES 

FRONTIER ^ INDIAN 



ON THE L'^''*^ 28 mS 

UPPER MISSOURI & GREAT PLAINS. 

EMBRA^OING THE AUTHOR'S PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 
OF NOTED FRONTIER CHARACTERS AND SOME OB- 
SERVATIONS OF WILD INDIAN LIFE DURING A 
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS RESIDENCE IN THE TWO 
DAKOTAS' AND OTHER TERRITORIES BE- 
TWEEN THE YEARS 1864 AND 1889. 

BY 

JOSEPH HENRY TAYLOR, 

AUTHOB OF "twenty TEABS ON TME TBAP LINE," KTO. 



SKCOND KDITION-KNLARGEl) AND IMPROVED. 



Washburn, N. D. 

rKINTED AND rUBLISHEl) BY THE AUTHOR. 

1895, 






COPYRIGHT, 1889 AND 1895, 

BY 
JOSEPH HENRY TAYLOR. 




CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

FIRST GROUP. 

MASSACRE ON BURNT CREEK BAR ^^ 

24 
A FATED WAR PARTY - ' 

30 
BUMMER DAN --------*■ 

THE SCALPLESS WARRIOR AND DAUGHTER 35 

THE GREAT PLAINS IN 1864 AND 1865 *^ 

- fifl 
FORT BERTHOLD AGENCY IN 1869 - 

------ 72 

FORT PHIL KEARNEY 

A MEDICINE SNAKE'S CATASTROPHE 76 

A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS - - - - ^^ 

AROUND GRAND RIVER AGENCY IN 1869 86 

93 

A WAR WOMAN ----- ■ 

SECOND GROUP. 

EARLY DAYS AROUND FORT BUFORD - - - 107 

A WAR PARTY OF THREE - - - - ^^' 

LEGEND OF THE PAINTED WOODS - - - - - 

131 
THE LETTER IN CIPHER 

BULL BOATING THROUCm THE SIOUX COUNTRY - - - - " 13^ 

- U7 
LONESOME CHARLEY ------ 

- 167 
EDITOR KELLOGC; - - " ' 

174 
INDIAN MOTHERS ----- 



SOME INCIDENTS OF INDIAN WAKFAKE 187 

WITH A GROS VENTRE WAR PARTY 199 

THE PEACEMAKERS 2C7 

THIRD GROUP. 

THE DOCTOR 21J 

THE RENEGADE CHIEF 224 

BUCKSKIN JOE 238 

McCALL THE MINER 250 

FORT TOTTEN TRAIL - - 260 

FROM WEST TO EAST 278 





JOSEPH 11. TAYLOR. 



PREFACE rO SECOND EDITION. 

^ FEW of the sketches of this work were orig- 
inally written bv the author and published in the 
Woodstown (N. J. ) Register and Dakota Herald of 
Yankton, as early as 187:!, under the general title 
of '-Wild Western Life,'' but it was not until the 
autumn of 11^89, in the conservatory of the Hart- 
vauft mansion. Pottstown, Pennsylvania, with the 
help of a rotary job press, that we made our first 
attempt at book making in the publication of the 
original edition of -Frontier and Indian Life. 

A^s the limited first edition was long smce ex- 
hausted in the neighborhood of its publication the 
author and publisher renews upon a larger ana we 
may venture to hope, an improvement m the pres- 
ent'over the original edition. Many of the skecches 
of the first work ore omitted and others substi- 
tuted which more nearly conform to the books title 
and of more interest as following historical lines 
of the period on the plains, in which our char- 
acters herein chronicled, were prominent actors. 

The gathering of materials for this work com- 
menced with the observation and information 
;.!eane:l from a term of soldiering on the Iowa aiKl 
Minnesota border in the latter part of l^b.; 
; tvi. up Platte river valley in winter and a journey- 
u, Fo.tkndallandup Dakota river in the spring of 
,0,1. .,u overUuid trip a.-ross the plams to Colorado 
■'„rN;.v.- XV-vico .a 18«34-5; a residence m Kan- 
,', ' V -M— ;'<•! in Isnc-T. and a continuous resi- 
""''"''■'■.," .'lio '{>•"'. D •.'.•ot:vs from the latter date until 



FIRST GROUP 







< 

5 



O 



MASSACRE ON BURNT CREEK BAR. 

ACROSS the mighty arch spanning the River 
Missouri, on the Northern Pacific line, peo- 
ple daily pass and repass serenely, hundreds of feet 
above the swirling waters, famed since human kind 
first setded upon its banks as "the river that never 
voluntarily gives up its dead." The jarring of the 
bumpers; grating ot iron wheels and gliding on by 
the iron knit stanchions, help remove that insecure 
feeling which otherwise might possess the passen- 
ger in the ride across this river, high up in air. To 
a tourist visiting the lands of the Upper Missouri 
for the first time, the crossing of this stream is an 
event of inter:^st, and indeed, it is never mono- 
tonous, not even to the irainmen w^hose duty it is 
lo cross and recross over the huge structure daily. 
Once upon the bridge seated in the moving car, 
the passenger whose window will allow a glance 
up stream, can view about one half mile away, on 
ihe east bank the southermost point of a grove of 
timber that extends as far as the eye can see. A low 
lying sand bar skirts the timber for two or three 
miles. Strange is the Missouri's record of chang- 
ing of water channels; changing of banks and 
bars; changing even of timbered points that dis- 
appear as in a day, and the surging current or some 
bare desert of sand alone mark the site. But 



iM<()N'n 



EK AND IM)IA.\ LiFF 



the line of timber we have just described — Burnt 
Creek Bar — remains much the same that it did in 
the early days of August, 1863. The bar has 
widened some since that date — the waters recede- 
ing. But a little narrow shoot that cut through 
the bar in 1^63, is closed; tempests of sand 
had rubbed out its sinuous lines as completely as 
though it were figures sponged from a slate. 

Now we will go back to the beginning of this 
chronicle — or at least — the beginning of the end. 

One day in the early part of July, 1863, there 
glided out from the Fort Benton landing a well 
built flat bottomed boat containing in all tv, enty 
men, one woman and baby, and one litile girl. 
They were, for the most part, successful miners, 
had made their fortunes among the rich placer 
mines, known in those days as Bannock. To par- 
ties at Fort Benton at the time of launching, and 
who were familiar with some of the miners, said that 
in addition to what each of these intending voya- 
gers carried around their bodies in belts, ^90,000 
in dust was placed in prepared augur holes and 
tightly plugged in the stanchions of the boat. A 
small cabin was built as shelter for the woman, her 
baby and the little girl. 

As the boat sped swiftly along down the rapid 
stream, propelled by oars in its intervals of slug- 
gishness, or pushed forward with the swiftness of 
a wounded duck in a favoring breeze. The home 
sick miners and this lone woman had little to oc- 
cupy their thoughts in their cramped room save 



Massacre on Buknt Creek Bar. 14 

day dreams of the coming joy and welcome in their 
first and best homes. They could tell of their 
long trials and adventures in savage lands; could 
show heaps of glittering gold, as the price of past 
denials and purchase of future comforts in the 
new lile of indolence and ease. No dark shadow, 
no bony finger; no feverish dream; no knocks of 
warning as far as we may know, stayed the hands 
or lent dismal, uncanny thoughts in the minds of 
this mountain crew as they rode on towards the 
realm bordering shadowy lands. 

On the 8th day of August the boat reached Fort 
Berthold. They landed to purchase some sup- 
plies. They were here warned by F. F. Girard, the 
trader in charge, that it would be dangerous to 
attempt to pass through the Painted Woods coun- 
try at the time, as Sibley's army had driven the 
Sioux to the Missouri at that place, and Aricaree 
runners reported them encamped amons: the tim- 
ber bends on both sides of the river. A consul- 
tation was held on the boat and it was finally con- 
cluded this was a trader's ruse to hold them there 
for extortion purposes. An old grey headed man 
dressed in black, dissented, though he said but 
little. The boat crew drifted out of sight of Fort 
Berthold on the afternoon of the 9th. They were 
joined at departure by a Canadian-Frenchman, an 
ex-employee of the American Fur Company, and 
familiar with Indian ways. It has been asserted, in 
this man's possession was the key of a great mys- 
tery. If so, the key is lost and seal unbroken. 



15 Fkontikr and Indian Life. 

That evening they encamped near the ruins 
of old Fort Clark, one of the first Indian trading- 
posts along the Upper Missouri. The balmy Au- 
gust breeze played about the sleepers, nnder the 
moon's shade at the old ruins. The noisy swirls 
on the river; the hooting owls — lone guardians of 
these decaying habitations where misery and death 
had so long mutually sat in imperious sway in 
the fear haunted old homes of the Mandans and 
Aricarees. The cool grey light of morning bid the 
boat crew cooks prepare the breakfast, and even 
before the bright light of the morning sun glist- 
ened on their oar blades, they had rounded the 
high bluff and cut banks that mark the creek 
"where the Crows and Gros Ventres parted," 
and stood out upon an open river facing the 
distant domes of the Square Buttes, and the 
eagerly looked for. though dreaded Painted Woods 
came to their view. 

During the summer and autumn of 1868, while 
publishing the Dakota Democrat, at Yankton the 
old Territorial capital, anci as occasional correspon- 
dent for the Chicago Times, I made frequent trips 
in the interest of these two publications among 
the lower Sioux agencies and some of the miliiary 
posts established in the territory contingent th^Te- 
to. Among the most interesting of the agencies 
at this time was the Santee Sioux, established on 
the east'bank of the Missouri river, and a few 
miles below where the rapid Niobrara empties its 



Massacre on Burnt Creek Bar. i6 

waters in this inland artery. It was this tribe that 
was responsible for the Indian outbreak of 1862, 
in the northwest prairie region, and commonly 
known as the "Minnesota massacre." A large 
majority of the remnants of the tribe here gath- 
ered were woman and children, the males having 
principally fallen at the hands ot avenging troops 
that hunted them down wheresoever they had fled 
after the destrucdon of the settlers of western 
Minnesota. 

By some chance I became acquainted with a 
small, middle aged, light complexioned and very 
intelligent Santee u^oman, known as Red Blanket. 
Like many others of that tribe she had passed 
through a terrible ordeal since the morning of the 
1 8th of August, 1S62. In her verbal chronicle 
of those days, I became interested in her version 
of the massacre of the mining crew at the mouth 
of Burnt creek in the early days of August, 1863. 
For reasons unnecessairly to explain, I noted the 
woman's story down with ink and pen which have 
hertofore remained among my unpublished re- 
cords. In placing it in English I have endeavored 
to convey her simple linguistic style from the San- 
tee. We will now let her tell the story: 

''When Sibley's soldiers started back up Apple 
creek, our chiefs and head men commenced to 
look about them. We had many camps scattered 
along Heart river and some on Square Buttes 
creek. We found no buffalo and but few elk and 
deer, the Uncpapas, who had been living there, 



17 FkoNTIKK ANT) L\I)IAN LiFE. 

scar(Kl or killed everything. Three days after the 
soldiers disappeared we commenced recrossing- 
the big river at the foot of the high bluffs. Buf- 
falo were plenty on the east side and that was why 
we returned. We made a large camp in a deep 
coulee facing the river with some timber and a 
long sand bar in front of some low willows. Be- 
side our own (Shockape's) band were many lodges 
of both Yanktonevs and Sissetons. I think it was 
six days after our return, that in the company of 
several women, we went to the river to bathe and 
wash some clothes. There was a narrow, switr 
running shute near shore, and beyond this a hid- 
den bar, then deep water again. On this morning 
at the entrance of the shute from main ri\er. si: 
an old man — a Sisseton — fishing. The morning 
was calm, l^p the river we could hear voices and 
the sound of paddles. After somj^ time a largc^ 
boat full of people came to view and were drift 
ing near shore. We saw that they were white 
people, when we started to run away. At thi ; 
time they were near rifle shot of the old man. He 
arose and made the blanket signal to keep out in 
the main stream. Next came a pufi oi .^moke 
and a rifle report from the boat and then the old 
man fell over. Then we all screamed and ran 
until we met our husbands and bnvdiers wiih dien* 
guns, bows and arrows. Then us women hid in 
the edge of the bushes. The long boat stopped 
in shalknv water at the entrance ot the narrow 



Massacre on Burnt Creek Bar. i8 

channel. More of our people came swarming out 
from the timber and the shooting became almost 
continuous, when the loud report of cannon irom 
the boat scared us all. We were afraid soldiers 
from Sibley's army might be coming again upon 
us, the one loud report sounded over and over so 
many times. Then came what we feared — woun- 
ded and dying men. We, woman picked and car- 
ried many from the bar to the lodges up the cou- 
lee. One woman was killed in trying to save her 
husband. I had a brother killed; it sent my heart 
to the ground. Several of our fighters procured 
loo-s and rolled across the bar toward the boat, 
firing from behind. Others screened along the cut 
bank of the shute. It was the middle of the after- 
noon when some one shouted that the old white 
man dressed in i3lack had fallen. It was he who 
had killed so many of our people. He hid in 
one corner of the boat. He would rise at times 
and look abont him. Our warriors believed he 
was a priest or medicine man. When the shout 
went up that the medicine man was killed every 
one rushed upon the boat. All were not yet dead 
but we soon killed them. One woman was found 
under the big box; dragged forth and cut to pie- 
ces with knives. She looked terrified but did not 
cry. A crying baby was taken from her arms and 
killed. I did not see the little girl, though she 
might have been dvTe, for all I would know. I 
help kill the woman. They had killed my brother. 



19 FkoNriEK AND Il\l)IAN LllE 

The boat was half filled with water. The one 
shot from the cannon had caused it to l?ak and 
sink in shallow water, and that is why they stayed 
until all were dead. But the strangest of all is 
yet to come. The dead body of the man in black 
was no where to be found. In the same corner 
of the boat lay the body of a man with same such 
face — white whiskers, and long white locks of 
hair. But he lay dressed in blood spatterd yel- 
low buckskin shirt and pants. We stripped many 
bodies of their clothes, and in so doing found belts 
of what we thought was wet or bad powder. It 
was thrown away. We lost near thirty men alto- 
gether. Some did not die right away but those 
who did were placed in the trees beyond the village. 
The old Sisseton went to his death trying to .save 
trouble and lives by warning the boatmen to put 
out in the main stream, that they might quietly pass 
by unnoticed. The .white men mistook the mo- 
tive, perhaps, so killed him and paid forfeit by 
losing their own lives. Those who know ihe Sis- 
seton best, say this was the moiive that impelled 
the signal. After many days crying for our dead,. 
we separated and went many ways. Our band 
went to the Devil's Lake." 

Thus concluded the Santee woman, as unfold 
ing the Indian verson of the massacre of the 
miners on Burnt Creek Bar, and cause that led 
thereto. 



Massacre on Burnt Creek Bar. 20 

In the autumn of 1876, while takin^^ a few days 
hunting trip west of the Missouri, I was joined 
at the Square Buttes by two lodges of Aricarees. 
These consisted of the families and some friends 
ol two brothers — high up in the tribe — known as 
the Whistling Bear and Sitting Bull. Among the 
party was a partly educated Aricaree woman called 
by her white acquaintances, "Long Hair Mary." 
She had a fair command of English picked up in a 
Mission. While encamped at the mouth of Deer 
creek several days, game was so plentiful that but 
little exertion was required to get all the deer, an- 
telope or elk meat wanted. During an interval 
of leasure, and not being very proficient in the 
Aricaree tongue, I called on the good offices of 
Mary to assist in the interpretation of the following 
statement from the Whistling Bear, concerning 
the concluding events immediately following the 
massacre of the miners on Burnt Creek Bar: 

"About two weeks after the white men be- 
longing to the boating party were killed on Burnt 
Creek Bar, some Uncpapa friends of the Mandans 
came into our village at Fort Berthold and told us 
about it Girard the trader, being my brother-in- 
law, and to whom I consulted about the Uncpapas' 
story, advised my getting together a small band 
of trusty men and go hunt up the place where the 
fight took place. He explained further, that un- 
less some of the Sioux knew gold dust by the 
color, there must be abundant gold dust, either 



2 1 Frdniiek and Indian Life. 

laying about among effects in the boat or in belt.; 
upon the bodies of the slain and then I was shown 
a sample so that no mistake would be made. 

In the early morning of the closing days of the 
"cherry moon," we left our village at Fort Ber- 
thold for the perilous trip. There were ten of us 
in all. We followed the banks of the winding 
river close, and on the third day we noticed the 
soaring of buzzards on the river near the mouth 
of Burnt Creek. Not a breeze was blowing, nor 
a cloud in all the blue sky. A misty line of fog, 
that followed the curved line of the channel wa- 
ters at sunrise, rose high in air as we reached the 
sand bar at Burnt Creek. The big black appearing 
boat was seen at last. It was partly sunken. We 
saw no cannon. The bodies of the dead, partly 
dismembered were being led upon by buzzards. 
Upon some of them we found belts filled with gold 
dust. Other bodies near by, the sacks or belts of 
buckskin had been cut open and contents spilled 
upon the sand. At the boat we found a coffee 
pot which we filled with gold dust. There 
were no Sioux seen. We visited their deserted 
carKp in the coulee back from the timber grove. 
In the trees were many blanketed dead. We then 
made our way back to our village at Fort Ber- 
thold. To Girard we gave the gold. He in turn 
presented me with a large horse, and a few pres- 
ents and a feast to my companions of the journey." 

With this close the story of Whistling Bear in 



Massacre on Burnt Creek Bar. 22 

connection with the gold of the ill-fated miners. 
Big John and the Soldier two worthy Aricarees 
withli long number of years to their credit in the 
Government service as scouts, made several hunt- 
ing trips— in their younger days— along the bot- 
tom lands of Burnt Creek. Over a year after the 
tragedy on the sand bar the boat of the murder- 
edlninerslay embedded in the sand, and to this 
day far down in its sand covered grave it yet re- 
mains, and will abide until the Missouri at that 
point again changes its sand devouring course or 
the greed of gold raise willing hands to uncover 
the undisturbed and unclaimed gold secreted in 
the buried boat's rugged stanchions. 





Little Crow, 

Leadkr of the Santee Sioux Outbreak^ 18G2. 



A FATED WAR PARTY. 

WHEN Lewis and Clark, and party of explor- 
ers ascended the Missouri river in 1804, 
the)- encamped for a few days near where the city 
of Council Bluffs, now stands. While at this en- 
campment they diligently inquired of the names 
of the neicrhborint,^ Indian nations or tribes, and of 
their numbers, condition and customs, more espe- 
cially those wild ones west of the Missouri, and 
bordering along the river Platte. Their descrip- 
tion and observations of many of these rovers, 
of even that comparatively late day, show that in 
the past as at present, extermination or absorbtion 
of the American aboriginal nations goes gradually 

on. . , 

Among other tribes described in Lewis and 

Cku-k's journal, was the Staitansor Flyers, a band 
at the: time numbering not more than one hundred 
men A few years after that datt: even these were 
exterminated, but just what tribe became execu- 
tioners has nexer been clearly established, though 
iheir rubbing out without much doubt happened 
alon^r the banks of Lodge Pole creek, a small 
stre-ain putting into the Platte river, near the forks. 
Here a large number of human bones were found 
some little'lime after the known disappearance ot 
the Flyers from off the face of the plains. 



2 5 1m<()M"ikj< AM) Lnkian 1.1 m:. 

These Staitans were the most warHke and fero- 
cious of all the American Indians of whom we 
have any record. They werc^ the best mounted 
as well as the best horseman of the plains, and 
moved with the buffalo in their migrations ; laying 
no claim to territory where buffalo were not found 
and all coimtry within the immediate range of the 
moving herds. They were in truth, the red Ish- 
maelites of the interior American wilderness. — 
Their hands were against ever)- people not of 
their own, and every tribe on the range regarded 
the defiant Staitans as an uncompromising and in- 
veterate foe. 

The Staitan Indian never yielded in battle To 
meet an enemy was to fight him, to conquer him, 
or to die. They never spared an enemy on ac- 
count of age or sex. Their women rode in the 
ranks at every battle, and fought as her mate 
fought and was as merciless and unsparing as he. 

To a people whose chosen virtues are courage 
and endurance, these bold Staitans were at once 
the fear and the wonder. Before their extermina- 
tion even, certain societies or war bands within the 
government of several of the Indian tribes of the 
west organized in partial imitation of the fighting 
codes of these Flyers of the open plains. To have 
the unwavering courage of a Staitan was the loft- 
iest ambition a warrior could aspire to, and to be 
likened unto one, the highest complimc'nt his van- 
ity could reach out for. 



A Fated War Pari v. 26 

Arolm) and about the country where the Riviere 
Du Lac empties its waters into the Mouse river, 
there formerly resided and claimed the soil, the 
"Band of Canoes" one of the three bands of the 
South Assinaboine. This Band of Canoes, while 
havini^ nomadic habits in summer days, usually 
passed the greater part of the winter season in 
some timbered belt along this river of the lakes. 

Here the pickeral and other fish swim up from 
out of Lake Winnepeg in vast shoals, and by cut- 
ting holes through the ice a plentiful supply could 
be obtained by them, and with the herds of deer, 
antelope and buffalo that formerly roamed there, 
a food supply of unceasing plenty was the happy 
fortunes of these Band of Canoes. 

While these Indians were not particularly of a 
warlike nature, yet like most tribes, they kept a 
few war parties occasionally out on the skirmish 
line. To the north they had a sometime enemy in 
the Cree, while to the south they occasionally ex- 
changed words and war raids with the Gros Ven- 
tres and the Mandans Like some of the tribes on 
the plains south of them, this Band of Canoes had 
exclusive groups or "clubs" with separate totems 
for adoration or worship. 

L\ midwinter, 1822, Tall Bull, a Band of Canoe 
war chief who widi his followers had chosen the 
\alorous Staitans as the objects of imitation, left 
his comfortable quarters on the Mouse river, at 
the head of twenty-two braves, and travelled south- 



.27 Frontier and Indian Life. 

west over the hUAi dividino ridoes between that 
stream and the headwaters of the Upper or Little 
Knife river. While here floundering throueh the 
snow, one of th(t warriors accidently broke his 
scalping knife. 

Now, the breaking of a knife blade is as much 
of a sign of ill-omen, and impending disaster to the 
wild Indian as was the breaking of a sword blade 
or a lance point to the sturdy knight errant in 
the days of the Cid, Aben Hassen or El Chico, in 
the Gothic and Moorish contests of mountainous 
Spain. 

What was to be done ? The unchangeable 
oath of a Staitan was never turn to the right or 
left on a war raid. Never turn back without iirst 
striking the enemy, and never call a halt while 
the prospect was almost sure for meeting them 
in the direct; line of their pathway. 

A parry was attempted with Fate. The un- 
lucky knife breaker was sent home in disgrace, 
and facino- a blinding snow storm, the balance con- 
tinned forward. 

That winter is on record as one ot the cokU^st 
ever experienced in ihit Upper Missouri country, 
so say the oldest of its native red inhabitants. 

During one of the worst of the many January 
storms thereat recordc^d, the buflalo herds left the 
hio-h prairie, and sought sht^ller among the broken 
hills along the river, and even crowded upon the 
bottom lands and among the limbered Lends. In 
this way they became an easy prey to Indian hunt- 



A Fated War Party. 28 

ers and were slaughtered unmercifully by them. 

Near the Counted Woods a few miles below 
Lake Mandan, a large hunting party of Gros Ven- 
tres and Mandans, while engaged in making a sur- 
round for killing the helpless brutes, saw strange 
objects coming down from the high prairies. They 
were obscured from view at times by drifting snow 
but on nearer approach proved to be Indians. 

They were straggling along on foot and seemed 
bewildered and lost. They were coming too, like 
the animals, for the shelter of the bottom lands. 
They dragged along in apparent helplessness, 
through the snow; their arms hanging stiffly by 
their sides. The intense cold, seemingly made 
them oblivious to everything around them. 

In the meantime the Mandan and Gros Ventre 
hunters had suspended the buflklo chase and were 
prepanng to surround the intrusive newcomers 
whom on approaching, had refused to signal the 
sign of the friend. 

Seeing escape impossible, even if desired, and 
their benumbed and helpless condition a bar to 
resistance if they would, the apparent leader of 
the strangers, spoke out in clear tones in the As- 
sinaboine tongue ;- "Follow me !" and pushed on 
forward. 

Uhey walked out upon the frozen ice of the 
Missouri, pressed on all sides by their bantering 
and taunting foes, who though many times their 
numbers, had as yet failed to close upon their 
silent, half famished and half-frozen prey. 



29 Frontier and Indian Life. 

In their front was an air hole through the ice, 
that owing to the swift cirding current of the 
water, had withstood the severest tests of the cold 
and remained open. 

With a defiant tread the hunted leader of the 
strangers walked up and into the circling waters, 
and w^ithout a struggle disappeared. In turn, and 
in sinofle file — like the buffalo to his drink, — each 
followed his .chieftain's fatal tracks, and in quick 
succession made the plunge that took them for- 
ever from the reach of their baffled and surprised 
enemies. 

Thus perished Tall Bull and all of his fated war 
party of the South Assinaboine Band of Can- 
oes and last of the imitators of the Staitan or Fly- 
inor Indians. 




P5 

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\i' • ' ijj,i| 1 1 Clj, 1/ 1 11^ M li Ml kt, "^^^W^^^^ 



BUMMSR DAH. 

t FEW miles north of Omaha, Nebraska, on 
A the river road, there nestles on a plain near 
alow sloping blufi; the pretty Httle hamlet of Flor- 
ence. It had been a business town ol some fame 
before the former cit>- was thought of. It was 
here on the flats surrounding the village that many 
hundreds of the Latter Day Saints or Mormons 
rested and recruited after their expulsion from 
their temple at Nauvoo. by Illinois militia in 1846, 
before making final ready for their long journey 
across the Great Plains and over the Rocky range 
to their future homes in ihe "Land of Deseret.' 
During the early days of the construction ot 
the Union Pacific railroad, the ordinary quiet of 
the little village was sometimes rudely disturbed 
by passing gangs of raftsmen and tie cutters in 
the railroads employ, who were in permanent 
camp in the forests around the neighboring village 

of Kockport. 

On one occasion during the early summer ot 
,866 the writer belated, had occasion to put tip 
one" evening at the ptiblic stopping place m the 
viUaov Sometime during the night I was awak- 
enecT by loud cries and confused sounds coming 
from the direction of a camp of lumberman near 



31 Frontier and Indian Lifp:. 

by who had also occasion to pass the night at 
Florence. By the Hght of the new moon's pale 
and unsteady beams, a crowd of men were 
seen beating and kicking by turns, an apparently 
friendless man lying upon the ground in the 
centre of the maddened throng. He was altern- 
ately groaning in pain or shrieking with fright and 
calling aloud for mercy. The injured man was 
finally rescued by the village constable and taken 
out of harm's way. He had been accused of steal- 
ing a blanket from one of the party to cover his 
almost naked body from the crisp night air. He 
was moneyless and friendless — a conjunction of 
circumstances by no means unusual to a wander- 
ing tramp on the public highway. 

The whole party came before the town justice 
next morning, and a curiosity born of the spectral 
scene of the previous night prompted my atten- 
dance. In the disfigured and swollen-faced form 
setting in the prisoner's dock before me, I was 
surprised to see the fam.iliar features of Bummer 
Dan whom 1 ha.d often seen on the~ streets of 
Denver and other Rocky Mountain towns. The 
examination proved my surmise correct, and on 
the Justice being informed who his prisoner was, 
he discharged him with the injunction to move on 
his way. 

Bummer Dan ! What strange thoughts th?.t 
homely name conjures up in memory's train ! Oh, 
weary and unfortunate wanderer, how many a 



BlMMKR 1) 



\N 



kick — how man) a cuff put upon you — your 
blotched countenance and scarred body bear wit- 
ness ' What curses have been heaped after you 
and around you old man. as you trudged slowly 
along life's pathway — a route to you ever dark 
and ever dreary ! Oh, Goddess Fortuna what 
pranks ! .\re the bates ever proclaiming : "What 
is to be, will be ? " 

In the year 1858. gold was discovered in paying 
quantities near Pike's IVak, Colorado, and from 
th(' far east and south, came swarms of adventur- 
ers to meet on common ground within the shad- 
ows of that great snow capped dome, the bronzed 
gold hunters from California and other Pacific 
ranges. 

From these defiles of the mountains of Colo- 
rado, roving parlies branched out and followed the 
windings of the deep canons or surmounted the 
barriers of ihe rocky walls, from the fiery summits 
of P'opocateptl on the south, to the frozen regions 
of the arctic. 

One of these determined and reckless prospect- 
ing parlies, after hardships that tested their pow- 
ers of enduranc(t to the uttermost tension, found 
themselves in tht- early summer of 1862, explor- 
ing the cormtry about the headwaters of the Mis- 
souri and Yellowstone rivers, when a lucky find 
placed I hem in possession of mines near the fa- 
mous X'irginia gulch, one of the solid stones in 
Montana's after prosperity. 



2)^ F'roxtier AM) Indian Life. 

With this party of prospectors was a vigorous, 
able bodied and generous hearted Irishman, who 
had been the life of his party during its sorest 
trials. He was known by name as Daniel McMa- 
hon, and at their first streaks of success he staked 
down a good claim which proved a veritable home- 
stake, as he soon after found a ready purchaser 
who allowed hirii therefor, eighty thousand dollars 
in good honest gold. 

"Now\ Daniel McMahon," some invisible spirit 
seemed to w^hisper softly to him in his moments of 
ease and quiet, "your fcfi'tune has came to ybu at 
last and your weary labors are over. Away, then, 
over the ereat ocean to the o-reen Island of vour 
childhood. Your old father and your mother there 
are ever praying and hoping for the return of 
their wandering son. They are old and careworn 
now, and the sight of your ruddy face and manly 
form would give them good cheer. And there is 
another over there, who has almost counced the 
hours and days in the long dreary years of your 
absence; but whose heart is ever true to you — 
ever lingers in realms of fadeless hope — as on 
that day you gave her your last farewell. Away, 
Daniel McMahon, away. 

A successful mining camp is generally a noisy 
one. Miners coming in, and miners going out, 
like an active swarm of bee> in a season of flow- 
ers. This mining camp near Virginia gulch was 
no exception. 



BiMMKR Dan. 34 

After the sale - of his mine. Daniel McMahon 
bustled around among his comrades and friends, 
until he had provided himself with a traveling out- 
fit to. hie himself below Boseman's ferry, where he 
hoped to overtake a party of miners encamped 
there, and who were preparing to return by flat- 
boat down the Yellowstone and Missoui^i rivers, 
on their passage to the States. 

Two other miners— hke himself being home- 
ward bound, would accompany him on his pro- 
posed trip. After a leave taking and many ''wish ' 
you a safe journey" from their friends at Virginia, 
the three peacefully and'quiedy wended their way 
down the valley and out of the sight of the camps. 
A day later, and still another party left the gulch 
for th€ same destination, and on the same trail— 
At a lonely-looking point on the mountains below 
Boseman's. this last party came upon a mart lying 
near the roadway, unconscious ^nd breathing in 
labored moans. 

Upon examination, the wounded man proved to 
be McMahon. He had evidently been robbed by 
his two late companions of all his wealth, and with 
his head battered out of shape by bludgeon left 
for dead, and better— far better for him— that 
death had spread around him its dark mantle and 
closed the egress of his earthly future. 

But the Fates were not done with him yet. — 
Ihere he lay— yesterday the wealthy and popular 
miner ; to-day. uncounscious, — a blank ; and to- 
morrow — Butiimer I )an. 



THE SCALPLSSS WARRIOR AND DAUaHTSR. 

THERE was an old custom among ihe wild tribes 
of the northern plains, that when a warrior 
was struck down in battfe by the enemy, scalped 
and yet survive, he must never allow his kindred 
or members of his tribe to see his tace again. 

A coward in battle may lose cast for a time, his 
seat in the council house may become \acant or 
be filled by another — his painted face and form no 
longer seen at the war* dance — or in extreme cases 
he may be forced to don a woman's dress ; l)ut 
with these exceptions his home lile goes smoothly 
and joyfully on. 

But a warrior though brave as an Achilles or as 
reckless as an Ajax in bloody combat, who tails in 
the front of the fighting line and his reeking for- 
lock torn from his head in the tumult, and yet 
arise from the ground a living man, — he must for- 
ever wander, like the coyote or the wolt. among 
fastnesses of the mountain defiles or the hiding 
places of the desert, to shun and be shunned by 
the humans of the earth. Woe. woe then, to the 
scalpless brave. 

One summer's day about the year 1S45, — so the 
Aricarees say — an outpost of six of dial tribe while 
on duty near their \illage at old b'ori Clark, were 
attacked by a war party of nordiern Sioux, and 



The Sc'alplkss Warrior and Daughter. 36 

most of the guards were struck down, scalped and 
mutilated. 

The surviving members of the band Hed to 
their home, spread the alarm, and in company of a 
wailing concourse of friends returned to care for 
the dead. 

Their astonishment was great on coming to the 
ground where they had witnessed the killing, scalp- 
ing and mutilation of a comrade, nothing but clots 
of blood, and parts of his hands and teet lying 
dismembered there. The body proper could not 
be found. 

As the place w?us dangerous- from prowling 
bands of their enemies, the Aricaree mourners, 
after making such disposition of the dead as their 
custom allowed, hastened back to the main village 
and told their slory. The medicine men when 
appealed to for answer, gave only a gloomy shake 
of the head. 

. It' was about three years after the events here 
related, that a camp of South Assinaboines came to 
the Mandan, Gros Ventres and Aricaree villages on 
a mission of peace. They complained that some 
of their people were being . mysteriously mur- 
dered in unlooked for places ; that no sign of an 
enemy could be seen, save a track that seemed 
of neither man or beast. 

The Aricarees, now, also called to mind that 
strange and unaccountable tracks had been seen 
around their own village, which invarably led 
out upon the open plain. These tracks were seen 



37 Frontier and Indian Life. 

upon the early morning dew and disappeared widi 
the rising sun. 

All of these mysteries were in a manner ex- 
plained sometime later by an adventurous hunUng 
party of Aricarees, who in beating up the game in 
one of the most inaccessible districts in the Little 
Missouri bad lands, came unexpectedly upon an 
opening to a strange looking den, in which were 
scattered about the bones of horses, elk, deer, 
antelope and wolves in great heaps, as well as 
some bones that seemed of the human kind. 

And what would seem more strange to the now 
terrified discoverers, was the strange imprints on 
the soft gumbo soil that seemed very like those 
that they had seen around their own village. I'he 
party concluded that they were at the cave home 
of some scalpless warrior, and with sudden fear 
taking possession of them, they hasdly tied to 
their homes to relate a wondrous story. 

As time passed the mysterious tracks around the 
Aricaree village condnued. They were ofdmes 
traced within the inclosure, even up to the lodge 
of the widow of the slain picket, whose body had 
so unaccountably disappeared at the outpost near 
Fort Clark, many years before. 

This woman had remained unmarried, since that 
disastrous day when her husband passed into 
the gauzy and indefinite by that unsatisfying 
and speculauve word,— missing. She had stayed 
at the home of her parents, caring for her child, 
the daughter of the unfortiuKU^' brave. 



The Scalpless Warrior and Daughter. 38 

One night, this child, then nearly seven years 
of age, was fretting and crying as other children 
are wont to do, when the impatient mother cried 
out churlishly,— as interpreted from her native 

tongue : 

-1 will throw you out of the door for your bug- 
gaboo father to catch !" An expressive significa- 
tion from the haunted woman. 

The litde girl not heeding, she was flung out of 
die doorway by the irate mother, and after a shrill 
and piercing shriek, all became silent in the dark- 
ness, save the usual baying of dogs, or the low 
sounds of muffled drums in adjoining lodges. 

The mother, after her flash of anger was over, 
called aloud to her child to come inside, but neither 
child nor answer came to her summons. She then 
went outside calling aloud through the darkness; 
and as before, no answering voice. 

Becoming now thoroughly aroused the woman 
went from one lodge to another, making eager in- 
quiries about the whereabouts of her daughter, 
lAit was uniformly answered by a shake of the 
head and the negative word "cok-kee." 

She searched high and low, near and far, but 
scearched in vain. 

i3ays passed, months pas.ed, and years went 
slowly on, but the thoroughly repentant mother 
never saw her dear child again. 

The Cree Indians of Lake Winnepeg, Province 
of Manitoba, during years of scarcity, in days past. 



39 Frontier and Indian Life. 

went hunting the buffalo in the country of the 
South Assinaboines, on or about the headwaters 
of Mouse river. In one of these wandering jour- 
neys by a band of this tribe about the year 1855, 
they became snow bound on Riviere Du Lac, a 
tributary stream of the Mouse. 

On a bitter cold and stormy day when snow 
was drifdng in wild flurries about the sheltered 
camp, two mounted persons suddenly appeared 
within the line, that the custom of these wild red 
plainsmen, binds inmates to a hospitable recep- 
tion of strantrers or self-invited o-uests, cominor 
from what tribe they may. 

One of these visitors seemed a huge wolf 
mounted on horseback. The figure was encased 
from head to heel in the shaggy coat of the white 
buffalo wolf; the fiercest animal of its kind on the 
plains. The face of this fright had a wolf's mask, 
and ears stood erect, as from a wolf s head. 

The other figure was that of an Indian maid of 
matchless beauty both in face and form. She v\as 
wrapped in a mantle of the prime silk otter, with 
a whitened frock from the tanned skins of the ante- 
lope, moccasins of a winter pattern from the hide of 
the buffalo; and drawn around her loosely a fine fig- 
ured robe; and widi a gaudy head dress com- 
pleted her artistic wardrobe. Her fiery and gaily 
comparisoned steed chafed disconceniealy wiili his 
taut rawhide bit. Such were the strangers that 
greeted the wondering Crees. 

"1 am a child of the Aricarees !" said the maid 



The Scalpless Warrior and Daughter. 40 

as she quickly dismounted and archly extended a 
hand to the advancing Cree chief. 

"Yes," replied the red gallant, ''none but the 
Aricaree have such handsome women." 

Need the reader be told that these visitors in the 
Cree camp, were none other than the cave dweller 
of the Little Missouri Bad lands, and his daughter 
— die missing child of the Aricaree village. 

For several long and lonesome years, they had 
lived on the trackless plain or among the dreary 
wastes of the bad lands. How the man existed 
in the earlier and hermit part of his career, without 
other aid than the merest stumps of feet and hands, 
or how he had bandaged and stopped the blood 
flow without assistance, is one of those unraveled 
mysteries of wilderness life, that we will pass 
on to the debatable and conjectural. 

The father and daughter received a warm wel- 
come — were feasted and cared for as the primitive 
Indian always do to their hungry and tired stranger 
guests. The girl's gayety and beauty soon won 
her admirers among the susceptible youths, and 
later on a husband from among the hunters of the 
tribe, while the Scalpless Warrior, always dressed 
in his frightful wolf mask, remained around among 
these hospitable people until the summer days 
came around again, when one morning the early 
dew marked a trail on the outward way, and never 
one among the Cree hosts have seen its re- 
turn — for the strange wolf-man had disappeared 
forever. 



41 Fromikr AM) Indian Lifk. 

Ocean Man was a petty Cree chief. He was 
one of the few Indians of that tribe of the far in- 
terior who had ever gazed upon the waters of the 
wide ocean. From some high point where the 
waters of Hudson's Bay pour out into the mighty 
deep, he had beheld the Atlantic's vast expanse, 
and its foamy billows dash themselves on the 
dripping rocks about him. Hence his name. 

In September, 1882. this chief, with eight men 
and their several families of woman and children, 
left their homes on the Saskatchewan river, south- 
w^ard for the plains of North Dakota, to hunt the 
last band of wild buffalo that was seen or ever 
will be seen alonof the orass covered vales of the 
Riviere du Lac. 

The little party came in forced marches to the 
plains around White Buffalo lake, without scarcely 
a halt other than the regular night rests. But now 
at this place so near their journey's end, and with- 
in good range of -game, they decided to take a few 
days of ease. 

At sundown on the day after encamping, while 
the hunters were gathering in their ponies for the 
the night, some of them espied objects in the dis- 
tance, but owing to the healed and dis-.urbed at- 
mosphere, seemed like a mass of buflalo, cind a 
shout of joy passed from one another at the sight, 
for now feasts of plenty would reign the hour. — 
But. see, they come closer now ! How sudden 
the transitions of thought ! How sirangely the 
heart beats now to these poor people, who saw 



The SiALPi.Ess Warrior and Daughter. 42 

the glimmer of bright sunshine fade, and death's 
terrible pall throwing out its inky shades around 
them, llie moving objects are plainly discerned 
now ! Not buffalo, but a large body of horsemen 
moving down on them with the swiftness of the 

wind. 

Now. Cree husbands and fathers be firm !— 
Nerve your hearts for duty and for danger as 
never before been tried. Around you and about 
you are your all. Poor, frightened Cree mothers 
and helpless little ones, go hide yourselves quick, 
and hide yourselves well. The yelling demons 
bearing down upon you, are a war party of Gros 
\^entres, Mandans and Aricarees— they have 
come to avenge a fallen comrade, and if victorious 

will kill you all. 

Swift circling horsemen— deafening yells and 
rattling reports from their Winchester rifles- 
desultory replies coming from muzzle loaders in 
the hands of the terrified Crees from behind their 
cart beds, feeble from the first but soon ceasing 
altogether, and then the excited horsemen dis- 
mount to hack up the wounded and living; muti- 
late and scalp the dead. 

Among the victims was a dying woman, with two 
dead chtldren clasped tightly to her breast. Her 
last mute appeal— the sign of the Aricaree, had 
been unheeded or unanswered, and with the last 
crasp of this dying mother— by war's strange and 
Tragic twists— the blood line of the Scalpless 
Warrior was ended. 



THE QRSAT PLAINS IN 1364 AND 1865. 

FOR many years previous to the summer of 
1864, the wild Indian inhabitants of the great 
central plains, had — barring some sporadic ex- 
ceptions — refrained from committing any serious 
depredations upon their white neighbors of the 
eastern frontier or the emigrants and freighters 
passing through their territory along the three 
great highways between the Missouri river and 
the Rocky mountains. This, too, with a knowlege 
that in the three preceding years, a bloody and 
devastating war was raging between the States. 

The outbreak of the Santee Sioux in Minne- 
sota, in 1862, had made no visible impression for 
the worse on the several Indian nations, not even 
to the southwestern bands of the Sioux who 
roamed along the Big Horn, Niobrara and Platte 
river country. 

As late as the latter part of July, 1864, while 
on the overland journey referred to in the open- 
ing sketch, large bands of the Op.allalla and upper 
Brule Sioux, and some Cheyennes were camping 
quiedy along the Platte river trail, between P>e- 
mont's Orchard and O'Fallons Bluffs, while some 
of their chiefs were away holding conferences with 
Colorado's governor and some military ofiicers at 
Denver, endeavoring to allay die threatened war 
cloud caused by a difficulty between some emi- 



The Great Plains tn 1864 anI) 1865. 44 

grants in the early spring in which tlie military al- 
so took a share. In the fight that followed the 
soldiers were repulsed with a loss of several killed 
and wounded. The Cheyennes lost their leader 
and some others. 

In the last week in July a raid was made by a 
small band of Indians along the Little Blue river 
in southeastern Nebraska. Several settlers were 
killed and two women carried into captivity. The 
raiders were Cheyennes. Near about the same 
time and probably by the same war party, an em- 
igrant party consisting of eleven persons were 
killed seven miles west of Fort Kearney at the 
Plumb creek crossing on the Platte river trail. — ■ 
An attack was made on the overland stage at 
C Fallon's Bluffs, and some depredations were 
committed on the stock of freighters along the 
two overland trails on the Arkansas and Smoky 
PI ill routes. 

Basetts division of Majors' train,— to which the 
writer was assigned — moved along slowly, and all 
were governed by a discipline of military exact- 
ness ; placing out trusty night guards at each 
camping place to avoid surprise and loss of stock 
I y the irresponsible stagglers and outlaws from 
Indian camps. At Fremont's Orchard, we passed 
through a large camp of Sioux and Cheyennes. 
Here, at his best, the untamed North American 
Indian could be seen. He appeared the haughty 
savage with a dignified reserve, and acted to a 
finish its portrayal. He passed our questioning 



45 FkoxriKk AM) iNDfAN Ltkk. 

with unmoved silence and our proiTered laniiliarity 
with scorn. 

While trailing through the .sands over O' Fallon's 
Bluffs, we came upon the body of a man just 
killed. He was dressed in an Indian-like costume 
and other than the loss of his scalp, and several 
arrows shot in his breast, suffered no mutilation. 
At the American ranch we remained encamped 
two days, and hear learned from this undaunted 
ranchman of the murder of the H ungate family 
at the Beaver creek cut-off, and two days later 
passed their four newly dug graves. 

We reached Denver about the middle of August 
and thence passed up Cherry creek for the Arkan- 
sas. The valley along the creek was deserted by 
its inhabitants, and cattle herds badly scattered. 
A man and boy had been found murdered, appar- 
ently by Indians. This was about the sum total 
of casualties when a proclamatioii from the Gov- 
ernor of Colorado was received at the principal 
Indian camps within the boundaries of that Ter- 
ritory. The proclamation was dated June iCth. 
The Governor ordered all friendly disposed In- 
dians within the Territorial limits to repair forth- 
with to the military post of P'^Ort Laramie on 
the north, or to Fort Lyons on the south.: This 
order would affect the Ogallalla Sioux, and a part 
of northern Cheyennes and Arapahoes on the 
north, while those affected on the southern border 
would be the lov/er bands of the Cheyennes, 
Arapahoes and the Kiowas. The mountain Utes 
were considered friendly and were not included in 
the proclamation. 



Till': Great Plains un 1864 ani> 1865. 46 

The Cheyenne Indians belong to the great Al- 
gonquin family, and when first known to the 
whiies lived on the Sheyenne river, a branch of 
I he Red Red River of the North. They are termed 
in Indian sign language "Cut Wrists" from that 
form of mutilation which they practice on their 
dead (•nemies. They are also sometimes called 
die Dog Eaters from their known fondness for the 
(lesh of this animal, which ihey serve up at all cer- 
emonial feasts. On account of incessant wars with 
San Lee Sioux, Assina.boines and Crees, the Chey- 
ennes moved soudi by what is now known as the 
Little Cheyenne river where they encamped for a 
few years. In 1 804, when Lewis and Clark ascend- 
ed the Missouri, they were living on the Big 
Cheyenne, near the Black Hills. In 18.32 George 
Callin found ^them in about the sa.me place; though 
that traveler speaks of them as sending war parties, 
on hosdle foreys as far south as the Mexican bor- 
der. While in the Black Hills they were at 
war against various Sioux bands, and also the 
Mandans, and' sometimes against the Aricarees. 

About these limes owing to the aggessiveness of 
ilie Crows north of them, the Cheyennes formed 
alliance with the Arapahoes, an offshoot of the 
Caddoes of the Texas plains. These Arapahoes 
were old residents of the North Platte country, 
and two or thr(^e generations had passed since they 
separated from the parent stock on Brazos river. 

After the union of the Cheyenne and Arapa 
hoe tribe they continued their depredations, to 



47 F^RoN'riKk AM) L\])i.\N- Li:r:. 

Fort Wise by a commission appointed for the pur- 
pose and some of the principal chiefs of these 
two tribes in which they aggreed to surren 
der certain parts of their territory along the foot- 
hills and and with a vague wording of the articles 
permission was granted by the Indians for the 
building of roads through any part of their lands. 

When the terms of the treaty was made known 
to the Indians as a body they vigoroL/sly protested 
a general treaty with these tribes who as mutual 
sharers of the country claimed common ground 
for both tribal divisions, all lands between Fort 
Laramie on the north, to the old Santa Fee cross- 
ing of the Arkansas river, on the souih. 

The discovery of gold around Pike's Peak in 
1858, and the occupation of the country by a large 
number of prospecters and adventurers made it 
necessary for the Government to again make a 
treaty with the Cheyennes and ArapahDes. Ac- 
cordingly in May, 1861, a conference was held at 
Some extent, against the settlements of New Mex- 
ico; and some trouble growing out of diese 
plundering expeditions in their own camps, a 
general rumpus took place. A part of the Chey- 
ennes and a part of the Arapahoes moving south- 
ward and thencforward became known as the south- 
ern bands. They occupied the country between 
the South Platte and the Arkansas rivers. Those 
who remained north continued to occupy the coun- 
try between the Platte river forks and along the 
mountain foothills. In 1851, the government made 



The Great Plains tn 1864 and 1865. 48 

and the chiefs making the treaty were terribly 
scored and ordered to undo the work that their ig- 
norance had done, especially as to the making of 
numerous roads through their country. 

Such were the grievences of the Cheyennes, 
when Governor Evens' proclamation reached their 
main camps. The principal part of the Chey- 
ennes were for obeying without question, though 
a turbulent minority led by some ambitious young 
men w^ere for ignoring or defying the Governor's 
order. Notwithstanding numerous messengers 
and messages passed between the Governor and 
the Indians it was noi: until September that a con- 
ferance could be arranged, which was held in Den- 
ver, between the Governor and Col. Chivington 
the district coiiinander on the one side, and some 
of the principal Cheyenne and Arapahoe chiefs on 
the other. 

The two leading chiefs of the Cheyennes were 
tw^o brothers White Antelope and Black Kettle, 
both brainy and far-seeing men, who had talked 
down the turbulent and restless spirits among 
their own people, and vv^ere earnestly desirous of 
warding off certain ruin and destruction of their 
tribe by truce with the Government. The Indians 
had been moving too slow to suit the Governor, 
and he was loth to give audience. He reproached 
the chiefs for their tardiness in complying with 
the terms of his proclamation, and plainly told 
them he now doubted his ability to protect them 
from the soldiers. The following was a part of 



49 r^RoX'lII-.R AM) ImhAX LtFK. 

the conversation between the Governor, Colonel 
Ciiivington, and the Indians at this council relating; 
to "first blood" — the beginning of the war : 

Gov. Evans. — '*Who took the stock from Fre- 
mont's Orchard and had the first fight with the sol- 
diers this spring north of there." 

White Antelope. — ''Before answering this ques- 
tion I would like to know that this was the be- 
ginning of the war and I would like to know 
what it was for. A soldier fired first." 

Gov. E. "The Indians had stolen about 40 horses; 
the soldiers went to recover them and the Indians 
fired o volley into their ranks.'' 

White Antelope. "That is all a mistake; they 
were coming down the Bijou Basin and found ono 
horse and one mule. They returned one horse be- 
fore they got to Gerry's, to a man, then went to the 
ranch expecting to turn the other over to some one 
there. Then they heard that the soldiers and In- 
dians were fighting some where down Platte river, 
then they took fright and fled." 

Gov. E. "Who were the Indians that had the 
fight?" 

White Antelope. "They were headed by Fool 
Badger's son, a young man, one of the greatest of 
the Cheyenne warriors; who was wounded, though 
still alive, will die." 

The council lasted several hours and at its con- 
clusion Black Kettle and White Antelope agreed 
to bring m their respective camps under the pro- 
tecdon of Fort Lyon, and done so. They were 
also accompanied by Left Hand and his band of 
Arapahoes. 

On the 20th of November our train re-crossed 



The Great Plains tx 1864 and 1865. 50 

the Arkansas at Pueblo, having on our return 
from Fort Union, New Mexico, loaded with 
corn at Hicklin's on the Greenhorn, for Denver, 
and consequently moved slowly. On the 21st, 
while rolling along the Fountain Butelle, we were 
overtaken by a snow storm and at the Garden of 
the Gods, near the present site of Colorado 
Springs, we made camp for several days. About 
the I St of December, while preparing to move for- 
ward we were overtaken by some of the 3rd Col- 
orado regiment and from them we learned the per- 
ticulars of one of the most atrocious acts ever 
committed by men wearing the uniform of the 
United States Army, viz: the annihilation of White 
Antelope and his band of Cheyennes after having 
obeyed Governor Evans proclamation and placed 
themselves under protection of the military au- 
thorides at Fort Lyons. The soldiers account 
given at that time and afterward corroberated by 
their companions in arms, and whose statements 
have never been changed materially, in the light 
of facts of subsequent history. 

About the middle of November, Col. John M. 
Chivington, an ex-minister of the Gospel then 
' commanding the district of Colorado, was mass- 
ing and outfiting a body of soldiers for a purpose 
that he kept to himself, though outwardly he was 
tacidy following the line of orders issued by Gen. 
Curtis the department commaner. The camp of 
rendesvous was on Bijou Basin, southeast or Den- 



^i Frontier and Indian Life. 

ver. The command as massed consisted of the 
I St and 3rd regiments of Colorado cavalry, a sec- 
tion of artillery and transportation wagons. The 
whole command numbered near one thousand 
men. The ist regiment were three years men, 
and had already seen considerable service under 
its colonel, Chivington, in New Mexico, against 
Sibley and his Texas rangers. The 3rd regiment 
a nondescript crowd of emergency, or ninety day 
men, many of whom had served in both Union 
and Confederate armies; others had been bush- 
whackers, bullwhackers and prospectors whose 
principal find had been hard luck. 

On the morning of the 23rd of November, this 
military command packed tents, saddled up and 
marched southward. The snow from the late 
storm lay deep upon the ground, though as die 
soldiers moved toward the Arkansas, it disap- 
peared. The nights were raw and cold and the 
ground damp and uncomforlable for tired and 
weary men. A night of unrest made the succeed- 
ing day seem lifeless and time pass:ed cheerless 
enough to Chivington's soldiers, until the evening 
of the 26th, when the distant breaks of the Ar- 
kansas river could be outlined; then a halt and a 
rest was made, the night to be spent in marching. 
About midnight the march was resumed. A 
chilly wind laden with dampness surgt*d through 
the movino- mass and all seemed silent with their 
own thoughts. Chivington and his two guides rode 
in advance of the command. One of these guides, 



The Great Plains tn 1864 and 1865. ^2 

was Jim Beckwith. once the noted mulatto war 
chief of the Mountain Crows of the Big Horn 
country, and a man with a strange record noted 
for its varying shifts, even in the unstable life of 
a rover of the border. It was Jim's general knowl- 
edge of the plains that the giant commander re- 
lied on that occasion. It was young John Smith, 
that the specific knowledge was expected on that 
night ride across the trackless plains. Smith was 
the half breed son of John Smith the well known 
Indian trader, who was at that very time among the 
Cheyennes. The young fellow had been beguiled, 
in some shape to accompany the expedition, and 
was moody and non-communicative by spells. 
Beckwith guided them without accident to within 
sight of the section of country they v/ere looking 
for, and now Smith was to lead them to the object. 
The boy — for he was under twenty — rode by the 
side of the gruff commander in silence. He was 
communing in silent, morbid thought — a presenta- 
ment, perhaps — of the evc^nts of the coming day. 
Chivington knew that fear alone held his younger 
guide loyal, and Beckwith was asked to watch his 
movements closely. After a long spell of silence 
Smith spoke out in broken English : 

"Wolf he howl. Indian doo^ he hear wolf; he 
howl too. Indian he hear dog, listen and run off." 

Chivington took the butt of his revolver in his 
hand and turned ominously to the speaker, said : 

"Jack, I havn't had an Indian to eat for a long 
time. If you fool with me and don't lead to that 
camp, I'll have you for breakfast." 



53 Frontier and Indian Life. 

An hour later a lii^ht streak in the eastern sky, 
warned the benumbed, stiffened men and jaded 
horses that another day was at hand. The objects, 
too, were near by that they had came for. The 
spreading- twihght revealed a large drove of ponies 
feeding quielly on die plain below them — and a lit- 
tle beyond, upward of a hundred yellow Indian 
lodges — smokeless but not tenantless — the in- 
mates, even to the restless watchdogs were- in the 
heavy sleep that precedes the dawn. 

It was in early October that 130 lodges of 
the expected Cheyennes and Arapahoes under Left 
Hand, Black Kettle and White Antelope appeared 
before the gates of Fort Lyons and delivered up 
their guns and equipments to Major Wynkoop the 
commandment of that post, as a token oi surren- 
der. Their arms was accepted by that oliicer and 
stored in the post arsenal, and a place pointed out 
to them to encamp and put up their lodges, i hey 
were given some rations from the post commissary 
though their wants were not extravagant, having 
considerable dried buffalo meat in camp. They 
behaved themselves well and were not inclined to 
intrude or loiter around the post as is usual wiih 
many Indians on the frontier. Some time in No- 
vember a change was made in the command of 
the post. Major Wynkoop was relieved by Major 
Anthony. The new commander was extremely 
dictatorial to his prisoners. He lessened their 
supply of rations and finally cut them off altogether 



The Gkhat Plains tn 1864 axD 1865. ^4. 

and advised them on a new location, where 
they mi.o^ht have a chance to subsist. This new 
locadon was on Sand Creek— forty miles away. 
The place was near the buffalo range. A few of 
their poorest guns was returned to them for the 
use of the hunters. 

There was no reason given by Major Anthony 
for this change. Col. Chivington had, for reasons 
of his own placed Major Anthony in charge of the 
fort. The Indians moved out to Sand creek and 
put up their lodges. The chiefs felt uneasy. But 
in diis camp were two or three of the half breed 
sons of Col. Benl, the noted fur trader, and John 
Smidi also a trader on the plains, with over 
thirty years experience with the Indians. These 
■ read over and over again to the Indians the fol- 
lowing extract from Governor Evans proclamation: 
-All friendly Arapahoes and Cheyennes, belong- 
ing on the Arkansas river, will go to Major Colby, 
United Stales Indian Agent at Fort Lyon, who 
will give them provisions and show them a place 
of safety." Trader Smith used his influence to 
calm their fears, and curb their disappointment.— 
From childhood he had been taught that only the 
Mexican and the Indian were treacherous and cruel 
—only his own race, all magnanimity— all virtue. • 
Sand creek was open and shelterless, the plains 
aboyt, scarce of game, so that their feastings be- 
came few and their fasting spanned hours. The 
Indian child enured to the pangs of hunger, sat 
in its cheeriess nakedness around the smouldering 



55 Froxtikk AM) Indian LiI'F. 

buffalo chip fires — uncomplaining little Spartans, 
that had been tau^rht that silent suffering was a 
badge of fortitude. 

Daybreak on the 27th of November again. 
Daybreak in that Indian village on Sand creek. 
Raw and chilly and no one astir. What a comfort 
a warm robe on an early raw winter morning. A 
Cheyenne woman gets up to start a fire. She 
listens and is startled at a rumbling sound. "Buf- 
falo !" she exclaimed aloud. She threw up the 
teepe door. Black, indistinct forms are wedging 
down a ravine and ponies of the village go snort- 
ing up the hillside. "Buffalo!" yells the woman 
"Buffalo!" "White Soldiers !" exclaimed a dozen 
others, for now the snorUng tramping and firing 
of guns had a.roused the camp. The soldiers 
were amongst them. White Antelope rushed out 
unarmed with extended hands exclaiming in Eng- 
lish, "Stop! stop!" when he sank down filled with 
bullets. Smith the trader rushed between the ad- 
vancing soldiers and camp became muddled,' ran 
back among the lodges and was unharmed. But 
all was confusion nov/. Shooling, screaming and 
crying of woman and children, yelling of soldiers. 
Black Kettle rloated the stars and stripes and a 
white flag from the top of his lodge, but seeing no 
heed or respect was given; being unarmed escaped 
to the hills. Indians that had bows and arrows de- 
fended their lives as best as they could, and kept 
up a retreating fight along the creek bed. The 



Tin: Gkkat Plains in 1864 and 1865. ^6 

demoniac gia.nt ridiii!^' among his men ordered 
no prisoners taken. Women, children, as well as 
unarmed men where shot down wherever over- 
taken. Little children, even to the sucking babes 
at their mother's breasts were shot like rabbits 
wherever found. A young Cheyenne girl, the af- 
fianced bride of George Bent, was hiding in a low 
swr.il when some soldiers came upon her. She 
arose and with extended hands and bared breasts 
rushed toward the soldiers, thinking that her fem- 
inity and her beauty would save her; for she was 
a half breed, with the fair complexion of a- Saxon 
l^lond, and was reckoned the most beautiful young 
girl among the Cheyennes.. She was met by a 
blow that crushed her skull, and her body after- 
ward mutilaied. 

One woman escaped from the slaughter and 
was crouching behind some low sage brush. A 
scared horse came galloping toward her hiding 
place; its owner in hot pursuit, but some distance 
away. Seeing she would be discovered, and per- 
haps thinking, by catching the animal and return- 
ing it to the owner, that she might save her life — 
.she caught it and held it until he came up; mean- 
time unloosening her blanket and baring her 
breast that he may know she was a woman. He 
took the bridle in one hand and with the other 
drew his revolver and shot her dead. 

An Indian woman and two children in the con- 
fusion crawled into a wagon unobserved. And 
only came forth from her hiding when the train 



57 F^RONTIKR AM) InDLvN LiFK. 

moved toward Lyons. The teams'.er, more mer- 
ciful than the rest allowed her to accompany the 
waggon after being discovered. A squad of .'sol- 
diers coming up she was killed and her babes 
brained against the tires of the wagon wheel. — 
The Indian loss was about five hundred, principally 
woman and children. The soldiers lost seven 
killed and several wounded. 

Young Smith the enforced guide, horror slriick 
at the scenes about him attempted to run away 
but vvTcS captured and brought back and placed 
under miard in his father's trading store. Col. 
Chivine^on was told that unless he o-ave orders to 
have him spared, that the boy would be killed. He 
replied : "I have given my orders and I have no 
more to grive." It was taken as a .acdc:; consent 
by the self appointed guards and they crowded 
around Smith as he set in his chair and some one 
shot him through the head. Over four hundred 
dead bodies lay around most of them women and 
childeren. The next day after the ba.de these 
bodies was disgustingly mutilated and scalps, ears 
fingers, and other parts of the body carried in the 
imitative, triumphal march of the savage or the pa- 
S^an. Garland crowned heroes of a nineteenth 
century episode — the massacre of the Inc.ian 
prisoners and their families at Sand creek. 

The Rocky Mountain News» the D^^nver newspa- 
per, gave them a rousing welcome. It said: ''1 he 
Colorado soldiers acquitted themselves v/ell and 
covered themselves with glory." 



The Gkkat Plains tn; 1864 and 1865. ^8 

Many of the best men of Denver, however, 
denounced the Sand creek massacre as an atro- 
cious crime. Among others were two of the su- 
preme court judges, who had influence enough 
with President Lincoln to suspend the brutish 
Chiviagton from his command. Of course indig- 
nr.tion meetings v/ere held by his apologists, and 
on one occasion a war meeting was held to meet 
a ihreatered danger. The meeting was held in 
one of the theatres. The hall was packed. "Old 
Chiv" as the butcher was familiarly called was in 
his element. The crowd of roarers were his 
ovv'n. His self glorification was applauded. "I 
not only believe in killing every Injun," yelled 
I he excl'.ed Colonel "but every one that sympa- 
thizes with them." 

With the surrender of the Cheyennes and Arap- 
aho^\s at F'ort Lyons, in October, '64, peace and 
quiet re'gned once more along the Arkansas; 
setllers and ranchmen returned to their homes, 
and overland travel and freighting was resumed. 
The ranchmen of the Platte river, though living in 
exposed and isolated places along that great over- 
land trail which ran parallel with that wide shal- 
low river for near five hundred miles, and who 
made their abode along the thoroughfare, and never 
considered their position perilous enough to aban- 
don at any time during the past summer. 

But the massacre of the hapless beings at Sand 
creek, warned them that a danger would now 



59 P^RoN'i'iKk AM) Indian Likk. 

come upon them that would be madness to deny. 
First, most of the Indian woman who had been 
living with white husbands, quietly deserted 
them when an opportunity occurred for them to do 
so, A quietness prevailed over the Indian coun- 
try, but it was misinterpreted by Chivington and 
his friends in Colorado, who saw in this non-activi- 
ty of the Indians, a fear brought on by what they 
termed the "chastisement'* wrought on them by 
"Old Chiv." But they misconceived. It was the 
grusome calm that precedes the tornado's fury. 
About the middle of January 1865, war parties 
appeared by sections alonp; Platte river and for a 
distance of four hundred miles every while mr.i 
or woman was killed and every building but two 
were destroyed — these being French Canadians 
with Sioux wives. The village of Julesburg was 
destroyed and its 28 residents put to death. 

Jn March, I hired out as night guard for Fuck's 
freight train and proceeded down Platte river for 
Atchison, Kansas. From the ruins of Julesburg, 
to lack Morrow's ranch near the present Fort 
McPherson, was one continuous string of dead, 
bodi white men and Indians, — dead stock, burned 
trains and ranches. Our up trail acqaintance of 
the American ranch was found with 60 arrows in 
his body. The evidence told us that he had died 
game. At the Wisconsin ranch the inmates had 
been smothered, but inside of the ranch ruins lay 
two face-covered Cheyenn(^,s. One a middle aged 
warrior — the other a young brave dressed from 
head to foot in Confederate grey. The latter, one 
of the Bent boys, and both sleeping the long 
sleep that knew no waking. 



FORT BSRTHOLD AaSNCY IN 1869. 

EARLY in the sprino; months of 1869, the rest- 
less Sioux of the Missouri river agencies, 
commenced cratherincr in small war parties for one 
more general rr.id against the remnants of the 
Mnndans, Gros Venires and Aricaree Indians of 
the Fort Berthold agency. The almost cease- 
less struggle that had reached beyond a century 
of years between these warlike combatants were 
now to all appearances being settled in favor of 
the former nation. 

The buffalo grass had scarcely put forth its flow- 
er, before Sioux sentinels stood like stone mounds 
and almost as immovable, looking down from high 
poin's of the winding bluffs that encircled the be- 
leagured village ;; and, like watchful falcons, seek- 
ing opportunities to dart on their unguarded prey. 
Mounted squads of Sioux dashed around here and 
there, to intercept hunting parties and destroy 
them, thus reducing the inmates of the allied vil- 
lage to gaunt famine and starvation. 

in one instance a brave band of Aricaree hunt- 
ers accompanied by some of their women, and led 
l>y Son of the Star's eldest son. were waylaid in 
a deep coulee, by a band of their enemies, led by 
a son of the Yanktoney Sioux chief Two Bears, 
'i he Aricaree hunters were returning from the 



6o Fkontikr AM) Indian Likk. 

Painted Woods Lake, with ponies loaded with 
elk and deer meat, and were attacked in the coulee 
above the present town of Washburn, in McLean 
county, and aLer a running fight for several miles 
the Sioux leader was killed, and his foremost foe 
mortally wounded. An Aricaree woman was also 
killed and pony supply train captured or dispersed. 

Signal glasses, rock and smoke signs, were ob- 
served in ominous frequency by the allied watch- 
ers from iheir house towers during the day from 
both sides of the Missouri, and the glare of 
fire signals lent their aid to multiph' the horrors 
of the night. 

Women were shot down and scalped while tend- 
ing their little garden patches within call of the 
village. Danger stalked in every form around 
and even within its sombre precincts after nighttali. 
Horses and ponies disappeared nightly from the 
pastures — ^from the pickets, and even from the 
lodges of the sleeping owners, for in dangerous 
times a common canopy, with a raw hide pariiiion 
was all that separated an allied warrior and his 
steed ; and the family shared the stored food widi 
the serviceable beast. 

One night in the early spring, a Aricaree mother 
was hushing her crying child wiih a song. 1 he 
door of the lodge was secure. A stealthy SIou : 
spy located her voice, and proceeded to cut a hole 
through the wall with his tomahawk to UK.ke a 
place ior his rifie. A passing Aricaree* vvarricr 
interrupts him and recives the shot and the death 



Fort Hi:rth()I.I) A(;i:xrY rx 1869. 61 

intended for the unsuspecting songstress. In the 
confusion that ensued, the spy made good his 
escape. 

These scenes with an occasional shift or varia- 
tion, were but the repedtion year after year in the 
long dreary decades of the past to the Mandans, 
Gros X^enlres and Aricarees. A people of fixed 
habiiaJon, they were made a surer mark — a surer 
pre\- to die hostile nomadic tribes ; being in a 
permanent location, they were easily found and as 
ep.sily watched. 

On the odier hand w^hen it became necessary 
to strike back, these Fort Berthold bands had an 
uncertain hunt and an uncertain find before them. 
A camp of roving Sioux were frequently on the 
move. Fach turn of the seasons found them on 
changed grounds and sometimes in new territory. 

By these confiicting conditions and habits be- 
tween these people it is easily seen that the Sioux 
become the hunters and the b^ort Berthold allied 
tribes the hunted, a clear disadvantage to the lat- 
ter. Witness the destruction of the Aricaree vil- 
lages on Grand River and the Moreau ; of the 
massacre of the inhabitants of the two Mandan 
\ illages on ihe south bank of Apple creek, and 
the almost total annihilation of the Anhnaways 
at their \ illage near where the county seat of Oli- 
ver-county now rests. 

All of these disasters to the allied Indians of 
fixed residences happened within the past century. 
Xifmercially they had been reduced nine-tenths in 



62 Fro-Xtiek am> Im.i.w Liii;. 

th^t same period of time .; althoiitrh small pox 
and cholera were the principal causes of their dv- 
cimation. Even in warding off these deslruc.ive 
diseases the Sioux, also, had the advantage of 
their stationary neighbors, for on their first appear- 
ance the camp would break up and scatter to every 
point of the compass like a brood of frightened 
prairie chickens, and thereby escaping the danger 
of general infection, and relying on good water 
pure air and fresh grassy beds as auxiliery disin- 
fectants. 

The confederate bands of the Sioux, in 1869, 
exclusive of the Assinabomes, their northern bredi- 
ern, numbered somewhere near about forty thou- 
sand. They were the only wild Indians on the 
American continent growing strong in spite of the 
agressive bearings upon them of modern civiliza- 
tion and without conforming to its imperious usa- 
ges, other than adapting themselves to the use of 
certain kinds of clothing ; a watchful regard for the 
improved implements of war, and a careful train- 
ing in their use. 

They were rich in horses and trained from boy- 
hood in the saddle. By treaty y/ith the govern- 
ment in 1867, and 1868, immense herds of Tex^s 
cattle had been issued to them in payuienl for 
ceded lands, which, with the vast herds of buffalo 
that as yet roamed over their extensive domain, 
placed them eiiher as tributary tribes, or v»'ard;; of 
a nation, in a prosperous position. 

Trading posts had been established at conveni- 



Fort Bekthold Agp:ncv in 1869. 63 

ent distances by the ^reat Durfee & Peck trading 
company from whose establishments improved fire 
arms and metalHc amunition could be purchased 
in quantities to suit the demands of their custom- 
ers. The company's policy like that in more civ- 
ilized communities was to favor their best custom- 
ers, and these in this instance, was the prosper- 
ous and haughty Sioux. 

The Fort Berthold bands had none of these ad- 
vantages. The three tribes numbered scarcely 
two thousand all told, and of this number the Ar- 
icarees were counted one ha'f. They had made a 
treaty with the Government — had ceded large 
facts of lands for promises unfulfilled. A pair 
of pants to a chief, a calico dre^ss or a shawl for 
some female favorite, was about pJl that reached 
them after passing through the gauntlet where 
the agent, the inspector and the issuing clerk took 
turns in their stand alonir the line for the "whack- 
up." Then above all and first of all came the 
immense maw of the Durfee & Peck company. 
whose resident agents were superior to the Gov- 
ernment ones, inasmuch as the potent influences 
of that company governed their appointments and 
tenure of office. 

What interests had the Durfee & Peck estab- 
lishment in the poor starving ragamuffin horde 
cooped up in the Indian village at Fort Berthold ? 
They had nothing to trade. Not even the satis- 
faction of handling their own "wak-u-pominy" or 
presents. 



Fort BkkthoU) Agency tn 1869. 63 

Over forty had died since the month of Febru- 
ary, by actual or partial starvation, in addition to 
those mowed down by the arrows and bullets of 
the Sioux. No visible attempt was made to alle- 
viate this state of affairs by the local managers of 
the Durfee & Peck company, or the agent of the 
Government. True, that some move had been 
made to better their condition by the military 
authorides at the neighboring post, Fort Steven- 
son, but their means and power to do were re- 
stricted in the premises, 'and of little benefit. 

Having nothing to trade or sell, they had no 
arms for defense save a few muzzle loading rifles 
and shot guns, and some bows and arrows, pikes, 
spontoons and war clubs, making up their rude, 
out-of-date martial equipments, to match in battle 
an enemy many times more numerous and by all 
odds the best booted and best armed wild Indians 
within the limits of the Republic. 

Such were the daily observations and reflections 
of the writer during the month of May of that 
year, while the guest of Jefferson Smith the patri- 
archal ex-trapper and trader in the camp of the 
Gros Ventres. 

On the lirst day of June, I moved to a wood 
camp, spnie three miles up the river from the 
Agency, near one of the Indian crossings of the 
Missouri. The first night of our stay, I was in- 
iatiated in river wood yard life with an after re- 
memberance. About midnight we were alarmed 
by a surround of enemies. Signal fires at the 
crossings of the wood roads, and the stampeding 



64 F'romier AM) Indian Life. 

of stock, told us but too well that a cordon of 
danger was about us. 

"We will not stay in here to be killed, " said 
one of my two companions — Beauchamp 2nd, — 
who with Charley Reeder jumped through an open 
window and out into a thicket of willows. They 
left me with but a single pistol and a host of un- 
pleasant thoughts. A capture of about thirty 
ponies seemed to have satisfied the Sioux, who 
went away and my comrades returned. 

A day or two later, with the help of an Aricarree 
boy I was banking wood at the narrows within an 
easy gun shot across the stream. 

"Look at that Antelope," said the boy, as he 
pointed to a partly poised figure across on a knoll. 

"Look at that Sioux !" I answered a moment 
later as a glistening gun barrel reflected from the 
supposed antelope. The boy hid from view. In 
a few seconds more, thirty Sioux warriors stood 
abreast, and scanned that neighborhood closely. 

One year after, Santee Jim who was with this 
war party told me had they seen this boy, they 
would have crossed over and had his scalp, and 
had I resisted or tried to protect him, took mine 
along for company. The Aricaree boy was killed 
by a Sioux war party three years later — ^June, 1872. 

On the morning of June 6th, a down stream 
steamer landed at our yard to take on wood. It 
had just returned from from the mountains and re- 
ported large Sioux war parties moving down both 
sides of the Missouri, and but a few miles away 



Fort Bkr'ihoi.I) A(;en('\ tn 1869. 65 

On this boat was a passenger from the mouth 
of Musselshell River, a frontiersman who had 
"made his name." He had on board of the 
steamer, about thirty whitened skulls of Santee 
Sioux, from which he had boiled the flesh in bi^ 
kettles, while lengthening out his stay at Clen- 
dening's trading post. That place was attacked 
early in the spring by about sixty of Standing 
Buffalo's band of Santee Sioux, and very fortun- 
ate for Clendening's men, a crowd of wolfers and 
buffalo hunters happened along about the same 
time. The San tees were on foot and finding the 
garrison stronger than they had first calculated on, 
attempted a retreat. In this, however, they were 
foiled by the good generalship of George Gren- 
nell, a noted frontier character, and ably seconded 
by Johnson, the head-boiling passenger mentioned. 
The outcome was, the Indians were flanked and 
hemmed in a deep cut, and one-half of them ex- 
terminated. The whites lost but one. It was 
after the figj^ht that our worthy received his name, 
viz:- — Liver Eating Johnson. He was afterwards 
a trusty scout on several military expeditions 
against hostile Indians, 

On , the morning of the 8th of June, the long 
struggle between the beligerent Indians around 
Fort Berthold, came to a finish. My companions 
had started down to the Indian village the day 
previous, leaving me alone with a small revolver 
and a muzzel-loading shot gun as weapons of de- 
ense. About eight o'clock, Pautoo, or the Paint, 



66 FKoN'riKk AM) Indian Li fk. 

an Aricaree, and a brother of the medicine man 
of the tribe came stepping briskly up to our cabin 
door. He had been hunting deer, he said, in the 
surrounding woods with bow and arrows but had 
poor hick, and asked in a submissive manner for 
the loan of the shot gim for a short time. On 
giving him permission to take it, he hurriedly 
started off. His nervous actions excited my sus- 
picions and I followed out the trail to the timber 
opening where a surprising, and not an altogether 
pleasing situation was in view for my edification. 
About half way between the line of timber and 
the Indian village, the winding and sparcely tim- 
bered coulee called Four Bears was plainly marked 
by abrupt appearing bluffs. On the plain near the 
bluffs large bodies of mounted men could be seen 
scurring around — now in plain view — now obscured 
by dust. The wind was blowing a hurricane. The 
horsemen were riding in swift circles and seemed 
at times like flying debris in the vortex of a cy- 
clone. It was an Indian batde. For over two 
hours, from a tree perch I watched the savage 
combatants. At last the revolving objects prew 
dim from dust and distance, and fragmentary bod- 
ies from the main circles were receding to the far- 
away bluffs Dismounting from my perch with a 
relief of mind, feeUng satisfied that the Aricarees 
and their allies had won the day. And so it 
proved. 

At sundown, Pautoo returned with the gun and 
his apologies. He broug|)t a bleeding scalp lock 
freshly cut from a Sioux wajrrior's head, and a fine 



Fort Bertiiold Agenc\ in 1869. 67 

beaded buckskin gun cover and some other tro- 
phies from the battle field at Four Bears. He 
claimed wonderful merits in the borrowed shot gun 
and with Vigorous rhetoric told the deeds of valor 
it enabled him to accomplish. Thus he molified the 
resentment engendered by his adroit manoeuvre 
of arming himself at my expense in our common 
danger on the opening of the battle. 

Late that same evening the balance of the wood 
yard crew came up from the Fort and the story of 
the battle graphically told. When the Sioux were 
first discovered, there were only four of them in 
sight. These were mounted and on top of a 
high hill overlooking the allied village and were 
riding the sign of the challenge. A little later full 
fivti hundred red painted Dakota warriors, who 
had evidently been in hiding since early daylight, 
swarmed out from the ravines mounted on their 
high mettled war ponies, and made a mad rush for 
the village and its terriiied people. Following the 
slark and panting blood hunters, rode one hundred 
women — veritable war woman — to the expectant 
dance over .the blood-clotted dead, amid the smoul- 
dering ruins of the last village of their hereditary 
enemies. Out from the threatened village went 
forth its defenders to meet their enemies, undis- 
mayed by the superiority in numbers of the com- 
ing: hosts, or the lack of arms to meet them on 
chosen ground. The dogs bayed, the woman 
screamed and old men tottering with infermaties 
of years or swaying their conscious course with 



68 Frontikk AM) Indian Lii"f. 

the affliction of sightless eyes tread forward to ihe 
sounds of shill whistles, rattle of guns and swish 
of flying arrows. It was a charactereslic Indian 
battle where the warrior shout and talk as he fights. 

In a lull, White Shield, the old and valiant chief 
of the Aricarees, rode out between the hostile 
lines like the ancient Saracens before the grim 
walls of Damascus and Antioch. "I am old," he 
shouted, "my teeth are bad — I can't eat corn. I 
am ready to die. Will my enemy meet me — will 
my enemy come." This was a challenge to the 
leader of the opposing forces. No answer was 
returned. The leader of the Sioux, young Two 
Bears was already dead. The veteran y\ricaree 
chief returned to the ranks of his men. Though 
a conspicuous target to his enemies the chivalry of 
the savage code forbid him harm. 

The fighting begun again and after a terrific en- 
counter the Sioux broke and went flying in scat- 
tered bands from the field. At this moment a tor- 
rent of rain and hail came down from an almost 
cloudless sky. 

''Hold — my men hold," again the White Shield 
"the Great Spirit warns us — let them go." He 
interpreted the signs of the heavens as a cessation 
of strife, and in so doing averted a running fight 
and massacre of the wounded. 

A few weeks before the fight, a young Sioux, 
the son of White Bull, a chief of the lower Min- 
neconjous, became a guest of the Mandans. By 
inter-tribal law and adherence to a savage's code 



F'oRT Bektholi) Agencv in 1869. 69 

of honor, he must assist his intertainers in their 
day of need even as against his friends and rela- 
tives on the field of battle. The young man was 
out and ready at the first sound of alarm, and with 
a new Winchester rifle, the only one used in the 
fight by the allied tribes on the field. He was in 
the fore of the fight from the begining to the end 
and his quick firing gun did great execution.— 
When the victors returned to the village, fear and 
grief were replaced by smiles and joy from the 
anxious ones who had watched the battle from the 
house tops, The brave young Minneconjou was 
particularly sought out by the grateful red maids 
and showered with kisses and other tokens of 
mead for his chivalerous gallantry in this — 
their hour of need. It was an after consolation to 
the young brave, for on his return to the Minne- 
conjues some weeks after he was soldiered — 
showered with imprecations and clubs. 

In this engagement the Sioux lost about forty 
killed and wounded and the Fort Berthold bands 
about half of that number. But the end was not yet. 

On a branch of the Heart river, August ist, 
1869, there lay encamped a village of the lower 
Yanktoney under the old chief Two Bears. This 
band of the Sioux had taken the leading part in 
all . the hostile attacks against the Indians at Fort 
Berthold for many years. In the spring raids the 
old chief had lost two sons. He had followed the 
promptings of his r eople rather than that of his 



yo Frontier and Indtan Life. 

own more peaceful inclinations and was preparino- 
once more to invest the doomed village by the 
muddy Missouri. He had offers of assistance 
from the Two Kettles, lower Uncpapas and 
Grass's band of Blackfeet. It was from this val- 
ley of the Heart, that the war parties would be 
made up. The women and children had remained 
thus far with the camp, as no particular danger 
was anticipated. For weeks past, the lonely 
widow or mother had mourned from the hill tops; 
in sobs and moans for the fallen braves of the 
wind swept plains around the coulee of F^our 
Bears. 

On this first day of August, a hot simoon had 
been blowing from the south, when about midday 
the wind lulled and a stifling calm followed. The 
ponies, tethered or picketed stood in restful quiet 
under the shades of some scattering cottonwood. 
The drowsy mother — the child tired out with ils 
rompings in the grass, and the warrior exhausted 
from the morning scout or hunt — all lay sleeping 
peacefully and quietly in the shade of their lodg- 
es. The sentinals alone remained at their posts 
though even there, Morpheus beckoned not in 
vain. Such of those that were awake at about 
two o'clock could have observed — if such a com- 
mon thing had been noticable — a wolf showing 
itself from the point of a hill west of the camp, 
and about a mile away. The wolf was surveying 
the camp with that observient curiosity peculiar to 
its kind. Affer apparently satisfying itself, it 



F'oRT B^kTiinLi) Agency IN 1869. 71 

frisked nimbly about for a moment or more and 
disappeared from view over the brow of the hill. 
13o you notice, now, sleepy sentinal, a little whift' 
of smoke curling- up in air from the direction of 
the wolfs trail ? Do you notice how hard the 
west wind blows ? Have you noticed how dry the 
grass is ? You should have, if you did not ! A 
howling, shrieking and hissing girdle of fire-flame 
is upon you, and enveloping you, and while some 
of you may save yourselves in the creek bed, your 
camp your horses are lost. 



FORT PHIL KEARNEY. 

NO military post ever constructed on the far 
western frontier, during its occupancy, had 
so much of the tragic— so much speculative 
thought for the believer in the doctrine of foreor- 
dination or fatalism, or the strange and romantic 
turns in the after lives of its garrison as Fort Phil 

Kearney. 

It had been named in honor of the famous ofh- 
cer who lost his life at the head of his troops at 
Chantilly, September i, 1862, during Pope's "in 
the saddle" campaign between Washington, D. C. 
and the Confederate capital. 

The post was one of a chain of forts planned 
by the Government for the protection of the Mon- 
tana road, a contemplated thoroughfare from 
Platte river along the eastern base of the Rocky 
mountains, to the mining districts of eastern Mon- 
tana. 

An expedition with this object in view left Fort 
Kearney on Platte river, in June, 1866, under 
command of Col. H. B. Carrington, which con- 
sisted of two thousand men, to be evenly distrib- 
uted at the different proposed posts. Col. Car- 
rington chose a site on a tributary stream of Pow- 
der river, and on July 14th, of the same year work 



Fort Phil Kearney. 73 

on the new post commenced under commander 
Carrington's personal supervision and by October, 
the fort was enclosed. 

While the country there had been known as 
-Crow country," it was at that time, by right of 
possession, a part of the Sioux domain. The Og- 
allallas under the chief Red Cloud, and High Back 
Bone, a chief of the Minneconjous, with their fol- 
lowers were bitterly opposed to the opening of 
the Montana road through their game preserves, 
and commenced venting their spleen by harassing 
the garrison at Fort Phil Kearney. The beef herd 
was run off and two soldiers killed during the first 
week of the military occupation, and frequent rep- 
etition of hosdle raids with more or less causual- 
lies during the balance of the summer months. 

On the 2 1 St day of December of that year, the 
hostile attacks culmmated in a general assault on 
the wood train and escort. The post lookout had 
been signalled to for aid, and commander Carring- 
ton sent out a relief party of eighty-four men, 
consisting of both infantry and cavalry, besides 
two cidzen scouts, the whole force under Colonel 
Fetterman. The Indians were seen on a ridge on 
the east side side of Peno creek, having retired 
in a feint from the wood train in order to success- 
fully entrap tlie coming soldiers. Fetterman, be- 
ing an impetuous officer rushed into an ambuscade, 
and in less than two hours all were killed. 

The batde is generally spoken of as the "Fort 
Phil Kearney massacre," and next to Custer's 



74 Frontier and Indian Liik. 

fight on the Little Bio- Honi. the greatest nnmber 
oi soliiers H^ere killed of any of the latter day bat- 
tles between the Government troops and Indians. 
Amono- the officers killed beside Col. Fetterman 

o 

was Captain Brown and Lieutenant Grumniond, 
the latter officer having been placed in charge ot 
the cavalry. He v/as a handsome, dashing soldier 
and had left behind him at the fort a young wife, 
who, when the news was brought to her of the 
fight and that her beloved husband was among the 
slain, the sudden shock threw her in mingled rage 
and sorrow, and rushing into the quarters of the 
commanding officer, with disheveled liair and a 
torrent of sobs, she hurled the most terrible in- 
vecdves against the unlucky commander's head, 
chareine him with little less than the willfull mur_ 

o o 

der of her husband. Those who heard the inter- 
view, speak of it as the most tempestous outburst 
of fiery invectives and denunciations ever hurled 
from the lips of a pretty woman. 

Out, venerable chesnut, out ! — "Oh, consistency, 
thou art a jewel" 

Come with me my reader, and leave, for a time 
at least, these dreary and monotonous expanse of 
semi-deserts — the shelterless path of the hot si- 
moon; leave the sight of these eternal snow cap- 
ped mountains whose rugged summits hide from 
you the clear azure of the western sky, and from 
under and around these foot-hills where sad mem- 
ories come in endless chain. 



Fort Phil Kearnp:y. 75 

Come with me, then, In airy flight to Tennes- 
see's gn^en groves and fair fields, to the land of 
the myrtle, the mistletoe and clinging ivy — the 
sweet mignonette and the fragrant honeysuckle 
than entwine and perfume the mansions of that 
sunny land. 

Away again then, oh memories of ill-fated Phil 
Kearney, with its uncanny thoughts — its cheerless 
deserted vales — its neglected, brier covered graves 
of the gallant hut now almost forgotten dead. 

Come with me then to a plantation of histor- 
ic name in this southern clime and I will show you 
a picture, — with the grace of sight of the year 
1888. I will show you a fair lady in her silks and 
her satins — a rosy smiling face hardly touched by 
the stain of frosts that revolve with the cycle of 
time. You will see that this lady's hair is twined 
with blossoms of orange hue. You will see by 
this lady's side a a knightly cavalier, whose hair is 
silvered somewhat, but whose stately mien and 
military bearing proclaim him a thorough soldier. 
How proudly he walks by her side — aye, prouder 
than when he stood on conquering rampart or re- 
ceiving the plaudits of admiring throngs. 

Now, good reader, you have a glimpse of the 
picture. It was caught on the wings of a deepen- 
mir summer twilight by the ever faithful camera. 
It is a passing view of the ex-commander of P'ort 
Phil Kearney leading to the alter she whose great 
heart cries for her murdered husband's sake pealed 
out in endless echoes through the cold frosty air 
on that ever to be remembered December night 
within the lonely fort of shadowy phantoms in "the 
Powder river wilderness. 



A MEDICINE SNAKE^S CATASTROPHE. 

FOR several weeks succeeding the Indian bat- 
tle of Four Bear coulee, in 1869, the Aric- 
arees and their allies had a respite from the rig- 
orous investment of the Sioux. But vigilance 
on the part of the Berthold bands did not cease 
with the route and dispersion of the enemy in 
pitched battle, and small watching parties were 
out and on the alert for any sudden movement in 
the ranks of the recuperating foe. 

Although near the fort, Reeder's wood yard 
was located on dangerous ground, being near the 
much used Beaver creek crossing of the Missou- 
ri, and videttes from the allied village were often 
appearing in different parts of the timber to guard 
against a possible surprise, especially from harm 
that might com(i upon their woman who were 
daily floadng down their supply of wood in bull 
boats, for their home. Reeder and myself 
condnued at the woodyard after the battle, and 
was joined by Joe Putney who had assisted the 
Fort Berthold bands by taking a hand in the late 
engagement at Four Bears. 

With axe, maul and cross cut saw, Putney and 
myself drew a line, day by day, on the average 
chopper's out-put. A rest in the shade was a re- 
lief from the rays of the sun- \v-hile again, work 
in the sun was a relief from ravenous mosquitoes.. 



A Medicine Snake's Catastrophe. ^^ 

We were always armed, for at no time were we 
free from the danger of a shot or the swish of an 
arrow from ambush. The lurking Uncpapa at 
that time regarded the pale faced — or hog faced 
as they chose to call the woodchopper — his especial 
game that season on the Upper Missouri, and we 
were being continually informed by the Aricarees 
of the passing to and fro of Uncpapa spies to the 
village at Fori Berthold, endeavoring to enlist 
them in the general raid against the whites of the 
whole upper country. 

On one occasion we unbuckled our pistols and 
laid our guns at the stump of the tree while we 
were both busy with our axes at the fallen top. — 
The space between ourselyes and guns was not 
over thirty feet, but it was room enough for two 
painted warriors to pop out of the bushes with 
drawn bows and stand guard over our unprotected 
arsenal on the stump of the tree. 

"We are goners," ejaculated Putney, as he 
looked toward the scrowling savages." But one of 
them proved to be Man Chief, a Mandan, and his 
move was only to convince us how easily it was to 
take our top-knots were they so disposed. At 
another .time, lie repeated' the experiment, this 
ume^being alone, but on horse back. His identity 
was hid in paint. until ha chose to disclose himself. 
Mandaiist and" Uncpapas' resemble each other in 
dress and, head'gear, and as most of the Mandans 
w ere masters of the Sioux dialect, he used his dis- 
guise to show how neatly we could be trapped, 



78 Frontier and Indian Life. 

and in feigned wonderment asked us why we had 
brought out our weapons in the woods for enemies 
to pick up. But many were the woodchoppers 
that went to death under Hke circumstances in 
those days, when red men more bloodthirsty than 
Man Chief, adopted this method of disarming his 
foe before kilHng him. 

At another time while Putney and myself were 
sawinor up a large tree, a monstrous bull snake 
crawled out from an aperture and Putney ran for 
his pistol and shot it. The huge snake was sev- 
eral feet long and one of the very largest of its 
species. After examining the ugly reptile, Putney 
threw it athwarth the trail where it was stumbled 
on by a passing band of Aricarees. They exam- 
ined it with circumspection, and an apparant feel- 
ing of awe. They spoke in subdued voices and 
to us who were listening, sounded like whispering 
anthems among the trees, and after some hurried 
oflances toward us, the mourners with our victim on 
a rude bier passed along the trail toward the village. 

It was then nearing the month of July, and the 
Indian's gardens were looking fine under the 
strengthening influence of copious showers, and 
the woman, with less (ear of the lurking foe and 
his terrible scalping knife arose willingly at the 
sturdy call of the village crier and hilled up the 
shooting stalks of corn and weeded among their 
crawling vines of sqashes and melons, cheerfully. 
But disappointment once more cast down their 
revived hopes and the mysteries whose interpreta- 



Im«)NTIkk AM) Indian Life. 79 

tion was the provence, alone, of the medicine man, 
and Medicine Lance the venerable seer of the Ar- 
icarees, was the one of all others to read aright 
the signs of its veiled portents. A chief medicine 
snake had been found killed, and while its blood 
was not upon the hands of the Aricarees, its 
destruction had been wrought by their pale-faced 
brothers W'ho claimed kinship with their tribe. 

The medicine man moved slowly. Elements 
of the air, tossed in frenzied fury solved the riddle, 
and he could then only know that bad spirits in 
countless numbers — in legions as compact as an 
arctic ice field, and as complex as the starry 
hosts along the milky way, — darkened the heavens 
in sombre green, and for two hours there poured 
down hail that beat holes in the earth and w^hite- 
ened its surface, and torrents of rain that turned 
every coulee into a raging river. And more fear- 
ful yet, the mighty thunder bird of the Gros Ven- 
tres roared and tore and spit forth fire the like, the 
poor mystified red inhabitants of the village had 
never before witnessed. 

When morning came and the sun poured forth 
its light it cast its rays upon ruined gardens and 
desolate, ragged groves. All the woman of the 
village went out to witness their damaged crops. 
Half suppressed murmers escaped their lips but 
articulate w^ords found no voice. 

About ten o'clock in the morning following the 
disastrous cloud burst — for such it appeared to 
have been, — about twenty Indians in single file 



8o F K(.^N r 1 1 R A M ' 1 M n A N Ll FE . 

passed alono the trail near where we were chop- 
ping and sawing, leading off in the direction of our 
camp. Not knowing to a certainty what tribe they 
belonged to we thought it prude,nt and proper to 
follow^ them to our cabin. We arrived in time to 
witness a very excitable harangue between the 
Aricaree chief White Shield and Reeder, the latter 
being proficient in the Aricaree tongue, and also 
an adept in the Indian sign language. The whole 
party were squatted on the ground floor in a semi- 
circle and grunted assent to their chief's fiery flow 
of ill-tempered language. Among those present 
sat Medicine Lance, Sharp Horn and Two Crows, 
the three medicine men of the tribe, with rank in 
the order named, and Little Fox, the Pawnee C)t- 
tacoots and Moccasin Carrier. The solemn ver- 
dict as rendered, was, that the responsibility of the 
night's catastrophe rested upon those who had 
destroyed the chief medicine snake, and that we 
must prepare to leave there instanter or die. We 
knew enough of the character of the wild Indian 
to prepare to go at once and after serving a feast 
as intertainment to these luckless and gruff lords 
of the domain, we pulled out for the military post 
of Fort Stevenson. The Medicine Lance's ex- 
pression on that occasion that "the slayer of the 
chief medicine snake will die as it died," was lit- 
erally fullfilled. The snake shot through the 
neck had died instantly, and the same fate followed 
Putney in a Sioux camp a few years later on, and 
his body carried from the scene of the tragedy, as 



A Mkdicine Snake's Caiastrophk. 8i 

was the body of the reptile, and the great thunder 
bird of the Gros Ventres once more roared, and 
spit tire, and drenched the lonely valley of the 
stagnant Hermaphrodite. It had sheltered in am- 
bush Putney's slayers. Reeder was killed in 
less than a year after the snake's death, and by 
fire and flood, by freezing, by starvation, by sick- 
ness and by bullet, the arrow and the tomahawk, 
these Aricaree guardians and avengers of the 
chief medicine snake, as herein recorded, have 
long since passed into the realm of the spirit 
land. 






A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 

JULY 2nd 1869, one of the Durfee & Peck line 
of steamers landed at Fort Stevenson with 
Major General Hancock, and staff aboard. I'he 
General was makincr a tour of inspection among- 
the military posts of his department and had just 
came down from Montana. While the boat was 
tied up at the landing pending post inspection, 
a council was held with the chiefs of the Mandans 
Gros Ventres and Aricarees, on the one side and 
that distinguished officer on the other. The im- 
pressive ceremony took place in the cabin of the 
boat and all available room was occupied by spec- 
tators. The writer of these pa^es embraced the , 
opportunity and was present. White Shields and 
Son of the Star represented the Aricarees; Croiv's 
Breast and Poor Wolf talked for the Gros Ven- 
tres, while Red Cow and Bad Gun plead the cause 
of the Mandans. Two famous interpreters were 
present. One of these, Pierrie Gareau, was the 
son of the half breed Aricaree chief Gareau, who 
was cruelly murdered by a party of trappers on 
the Papallion river, Nebraska, in the summer of 
1832, thereby precipitating a war with the Arica- 
rees which lasted many years. The othr^r inter- 
preter w^as the veteran trader Fackineau, a brilli- 
ant linguist, speaking correctly many different In- 
dian languages. 



A Rift in Tiif: Clouds. 83 

The venerable White Shield opened the coun- 
cil with a speech. The ready flow of language 
and perfect gesticulations as this red leader stood 
up in his chiefs robes, gave him a picturesque 
appearance that was pleasing alike to the General 
and spectators. The chief was then near seventy 
years of age, and, among his people had long 
stood their formest spokesmen and orator. In 
his younger day he was a famed warrior and duel- 
ist, and but few battles ever happened around the 
Aricaree villao-e in his time, that White Shield did 
not fieht in the front rank. 

The second speaker was Son of the Star, the 
Indian Daniel Webster. He had an intelligent 
countenance ; a chief of commanding appear- 
ance, and though a logical talker did not have the 
passionate vehemence of White Shield. His 
good judgment and able presentation of his peo- 
ple^'s plea, won the admiration of the General. 

The third speaker was Crow's Breast, the Gros 
Ventre, a tall raw boned chieftain whose bass voice 
sounded down to the toes of his moccasins. Next 
came Poor Wolf a modest speaker without much 
display of rhetoric but whose appearance com- 
manded attention until he sit down. Then arose 
Bad Gun the second chief of the Mandans. This 
warrior was the surviving son of Four Bears, 
the most noted chief of his time on the Upper 
Missouri, who died during the small pox epidem- 
ic which swept away a whole village of the Man- 
dans. He talked dreamily and with little force. 



84 Frontier and Indian Ltff. 

Red Cow, head chief of the Mandans was the 
last of the Indian speakers. He was the succes- 
sor of Four Bears and had worn the toga for up- 
ward of thirty years. His career had been roman- 
tic and eventful, but he stood here a haggard-faced 
gray hared old man pleading for substance for his 
starving people. The old chiefs earnestness 
touched the heart of General Hancock, for when 
that officer arose and replied, it was in words of 
kindness and a thoughtful presentation of the Gov- 
ernment's desiieashe understood it, and that was 
to treat them fairly and honestly. He surprised 
the chiefs by his intimate knowledge of their tribel 
history, even to most minute details as recorded 
by their own aged seers; and they reckoned with 
reason that one who studied their history and con- 
ditions so closely, must bear a friendly feeling to- 
ward them, more especially when no mercenary 
motive had prompted the enquiry. As a conse- 
quence they had implicit faith in General Hancock. 

At the close of the conference, the several chiefs 
came forward and bid the General an effectionate 
farewell, — which was destined in the order of 
earthly events to be the first and last interview 
between these chiefs and that distinguished officer. 

Son of the Star, the Aricaree chief, in after 
days, speaking of this council and the results 
which immediately followed it, said it was as a 
''rift in the passing clouds in the welfare of my 
people — a ray of light that did not long linger." 



A Rift in The Clouds. 85 

An agent was recommended for appointment by 
the General, to succeed agent Wilkinson then in 
charge of the Fort Berthold agency. This new 
agent was Captain Walter Clifford, of the Seventh 
U. S. Infantry, an army officer honorable and hu- 
mane to a high degree. He gave the affairs of 
the Indians his personal supervision, and his unsel- 
fish interest in their welfare will ingraft his mem- 
ory to their hearts as long as they remain a com- 
munity. To them he was the one agent who was 
faithful to his trust and faithful in his friendship. 
The other agents of this agency — those who came 
before and those who followed in successive lines 
after Clifford, — these observient Indians charac- 
terize as daylight robbers without mercy and 
without shame, and have might added — or cloudy 
brained hopnoticized leeches who do the bidding of 
the unscruplous high-tide swimmers, intrenched in 
power by the huge waves of moral rottenness 
now flooding die land. 



m 



AROUND GRAND RIYSR AQENCY, 1369. 

ABOUT the second week in July, 1869, the 
writer found himself at the Cheyenne river 
Indian agency; having accompanied General 
Hancock's party by steamer to that place. This 
was one of three Sioux agencies established by 
General Harney the autumn previous; an- 
other being on Whetstone creek above Fort 
Randall, and the remaining one being located just 
above the confluence of the Grand and Missouri 
rivers. The Cheyenne agency was located about 
midway betcveen the two others and all three of 
them contained wild, turbulent Sioux bands, that, 
had as yet defied the restrictive and coercive mea- 
sures employed by the Government to bring them 
within easy reach of its power. To use a trap- 
per's phrase, a few huge "draw baits" had been 
put out to bring to bait the wily red man, while 
in a confidential and unsuspicious mood. 

But the lured Sioux like the baited fox or coy- 
ote did not rest his case on simple outside appear- 
ances. He watched for possible traps and dead- 
falls, and everywhere he roamed, or wherever he 
pitched his lodge, his weapons of war was his first 
care, and his every move was that of the vidette 
always on duty. They had come in from their 
hunting ranges at the invitation of the Govern- 



Around Grand River Agency, 1869. 87 

ment, but their stay and their behaviour was owing 
to the fickleness of circumstances. 

The Minneconjous, Sans Arcs and Etasapas, 
three very unruly bands or divisions of the Sioux 
nation were the principal recipients of the Govern- 
ment annuity distribution at the Cheyenne river 
agency, in 1869. There were a sprinkling of 
other bands, but these named were more fully 
represented, being about three thousand in all. 

About the first of August, there was an almost 
total eclipse of the sun, and there was here en- 
acted at that time some strange and exciting hap- 
penings in the camps of these wild people. When 
the sun's disk began to darken, the Indians, men, 
woman and children began howling and screaming 
like mad people, and were joined in chorus by all 
the dogs in camp. Indians with a semi-civilized 
appearance but an hour before, now became the 
savage pure and simple, outdoing the African Hot- 
tentot, the Bushman or the Mantabelle, in wild 
origies and heathenish rites. The firing of guns 
towards the darkened sun, roaring like a battle, 
and amidst the noise cries of ''wake him up — wake 
him up — the sun is sleeping," could be heard above 
the racket and would be repeated over and over 
again. The agency interpreter then came up to 
the camp and reminded us that our presence 
among them at that time in their frenzied state 
was dangerous, not only to ourselves but to the 
balance of the employees of the agency, as the 
mere presence of a white man amongst the reds 



88 Frontier and Indtan Like. 

at such a time would invite death from the hand 
of some medicine making fanatic, and when once 
blood was shed, their curbinor would be difficult. 

Some days after the eclipse, a hf^avy storm ac- 
companied by terrific lightening and deafening 
peals of thunder swept over the camp, and one 
whole family killed by lightening in one lodge, 
and a solitary woman in another part of the 
village. Several medicine men in the tribes laid 
the disaster to evil spirits superinduced by whites, 
when some relatives of the stricken families thus 
sacrificed, armed themselves with the intention of 
shootino- down the first "white face" that crossed 
their path, and when such word reached the agen- 
cy, curiosity tours to the Indian village, lacked in- 
terest among the employees. 

Tov/ard the latter part of August, I boarded 
the little stearn wheeler, Peninah, Captain Haney, 
of Pittsburg in command, and steamed up the 
Missouri, to the Grand river agency, in obedience 
to a request from Contractor Dillon, to serve as 
guard, outrider and dispatch bearer between his 
various camps, then doing business in that end of 
the Sioux reservation. The rendesvous or head- 
quarters of the contractor and his partner. Charles 
McCarthy, was on the east bank of the Missouri, 
and nearly opposite the mouth of Grand river. 

Three divisions of the Sioux were here repre- 
sented, the Blackfeet, Two Bear's Yanktoney, and 
the Lower Uncpapas. Considerable trouble had 
occurred about one month previous at the agency 



Around Grand River Agency, 1869. 89 

by the aggressive Uncpapas, and the killing of the 
white employees and destruction of the agency 
buildings and stores was only averted by the de- 
termined will and bravery of a few friendly dis- 
posed Yanktoney and Bbxkfeet. 

After a few days rest at the agency a dispos- 
ition was made of the various gangs, and it fell to 
the writer's portion tC) be of a party of four hay- 
makers 10 commence the season's cut on the Blue 
Blanket creek, on the east bank of the Missouri. 
The first night out we made camp on the river's 
bank, opposite Blue Blanket island, and about six 
miles from the agency. We had with us four 
rniiles, a pair of them being just purchased from 
the Indians, and a remarkable fine team,. After 
making camp and having supper, my companions 
went down along the river bank a few hundred 
yards, for the purpose of fishing and bathing, while 
I remained behind to look after the camp and the 
mules. A hard wind had been blowing all day, 
and as the great red sun was slowly decending be- 
low the distant bluffs, the wind slackened into 
fitful gusts. While taking observations from camp 
over the plains, my eyes rested on some objects 
among- the high grass in a swail not over tour 
hundred yards from the o^razino- mules. A waft 
of wind bending the tall swaying grass, had first 
ma.rked the objects indistinctly, but a heavier 
draft immediately follow^ed, revealed a lot of 
painted Indians crawling on their hands and knees 
heading toward the stock. Alarming mv compan- 



90 Frontier and Indian Life. 

ions who came running up with their clothes in 
one hand and guns in the other, we rushed out 
near the mules, and laying on the grass, were 
prepared to meet the onslaught. But the Indians 
evidently finding themselves discovered, retreated 
under cover of darkness, although not knowing it 
at the time, we kept vigilant guard until daylight. 

In the early morning. Contractor Dillon and the 
Government chief Thunder and Lightning came 
riding into our camp. Thunder and Lightning 
was the accredited chief of a band of Sissetons; yet 
chief making by the strong arm and good offices 
of the Government when not supported with the 
pronounced approved judgment of the tribe, were 
usually failures. In other words to use the In- 
dians' figurative and expressive vernacular he had 
*'sat down" as a chief of the Sissetons, and with a 
following of three lodo-es had betook himself from 
the scenes of his earlier ambition and was now 
roving the plains ?.nd at this time was an unpre- 
tentious guest of the Ya.nktoneys. 

Dillon was uneasy on our account from what 
had happened at the agency the afternoon before. 
The agency herder, a you no;" man named Cook, 
while on duty, and with no wc!apon but a whip, 
had been approached by a mounted Uncpapa and 
several arrows shot in his body. The Indian, who 
was a brother of the chief Long Soldier after com- 
mitting the dG&d, rode up to the agency uath a 
crowd of followers and proclaimed aloud that they 
would slauehter the first white men who turned a 



Around Grand River Agency, 1869. 91 

furrow with a breaking plow or cut a swath with a 
mowing maqhine around the Grand river agency. 
As considerable excitement followed this episode, 
Dillon secured the services of the red knight er- 
rant, Thunder and Lightning and son John, to help 
guard the hay camp against an attack from their 
hostile brethren. The acts of the lurking Indians 
the evening before, confirmed the necessity of vig- 
ilence, and as evening drew near, plans for our 
defense were studied out Thunder and Light- 
ning and myself decided on taking the first watch 
from the twilight hour until midnight. The old 
Sisseton took post at the river bank near a point 
of willows, while my position was flat on the grass 
near the picketed mules. The moon arose in its 
full, and only at times llghdy obscured by fleecy 
white clouds, with not even the shrill whistling of 
an elk, the dull thudding alarms of traveling bea- 
ver, or the skurrying through the air of passing 
wild fowls, so common at that time of the season 
along the Upper Missouri. So still, indeed, had 
our surroundings become, that soothing nods of 
quasi sleep lapped the links of time, as the hours 
swiftly glided toward midnight. Danger that had 
stalked In a distorted form to the twilight vision, 
became the mere substance of shadow, as the 
chilly air marked passing time. About the time I 
was thinking of waking up the relief guard, some 
one came crawling toward me from the direction 
of the camp. It was the old Sisseton, and he 
motioned me to follow him. As he drew near the 



02 Frontier and Indian Life. 

edge of the willows, he made the siorn of silence 
and then pointed to some objects in the river. At 
first I was inclined to think it a bull boat war par- 
ty but as they approached our shore they were 
easily defined, and were six Indians swimming 
their horses. Not a word u^as spoken by them, 
and even in swimming, the spashing came to us in 
mufiled sounds. The Sisseton whispered to me 
in Sioux, that he had first noticed them coming 
out from the shadows of Blue Blanket island. We 
awaited undl the^' landed on a bar above camp, 
and from their silent speech and actions, we 
became convinced they were on a hostile raid, and 
so alarmed camp; then the mounted warriors took 
to the praries on the run. Harmless Kelly, of our 
party, again, as on the alarm the night previous, 
took the scare crow view of mat':ers, and kept up 
a shot gun fusilade until daylight upon ever imag- 
inable thing, even to shadows made by the moon, 
but possibly help accomplish the main object — 
scare off the Indians and save our mules. 

Now an ins.ance of Indian tenacity. One year 
later at that very place, on the same business, 
these same mules were picketed. Harmless Kelly, 
too, was with this latter parly, and had spent the 
evening telling his new comrades the two nights 
adventures with a war party in August, 1869, on 
the raise of ground where their tent was then 
pitched. But watchful Thunder and Lightning 
was not there to guard camp, and th(^ yawning 
haymakers retired to their blankets, while the 
grazing mules changed masters before the dawn. 



A WAR WOMAN, 

WITH the increase of population and mining 
operations in Montana after the discovery 
and opening of the gold mines in 1862, and the 
construction of additional military posts along the 
Upper Missouri, came also the increase of the 
boating business between the city of Saint Louis. 
Missouri, and Fort Benton, Montana, the last 
named place being the head of navigation on the 
Missouri river. 

In the years I867-8 and 1869, the tonnage of 
freight transported up this river was enormous, 
over thirty steamers being constandy employed 
during the season of navigadon in its transpor- 
tation. 

While the wood along the timbered bends for 
nearly a thousand miles of the steamer's course, 
could be had for the chopping and takino- for 
steam heating and other necessary purposes, yet 
the difficulty and loss of time by the boats crew 
in finding dry wood within the range of the tie-up, 
led the owners and captains of these steamers to 
induce a class of men to establish woodyards at 
convenient distances apart along the banks border- 
ing the channel of the stream. Each camp or 
yard, for the most part acting independent of the 
other, the price of wood being regulnted by its 



94 Frontier and Indian Life. 

particular location, or the kind and quality of the 
wood in rank. 

The life led by these isolated wood choppers or 
owners of the woodyards, was, owing- to the hun- 
dreds of miles of territory roamed over by bands 
of hostile Indians, likened unto a guard or sen- 
tinal continually at his post. His life or his prop- 
erty was ever insecure. Thus it was, that during 
the years above mentioned, nearly or quite one- 
third of these men so employed lost their lives, 
the wood destroyed and stock run off by Indians. 

A party of this class of men, together with some 
professional hunters, wolfers and trappers, having- 
congregated at the Painted Woods — a heavy body 
of timber on the Missouri, midway between the 
military posts of Forts Rice and Stevenson — during- 
the autumn of 1869, a band of eleven of them 
were enlisted by Morris & Gluck, two enterprising 
woodyard proprietors, to open up a new yard be- 
tween that point and Fort Stevenson. 

The point selected was called Tough Timber, 
near the present town of Hancock, McLean Coun- 
ty. Here on the nth of November of that year, 
was commenced the second and last fortifitrd stock- 
ade ever erected within the boundaries of that 
North Dakota county. The first being Fort Man- 
dan, erected at Elm Point, in November, 1804, by 
the Lewis and Clark expedition, as winter quar- 
ters The buildings constructed by the wood- 
choppers at Tough Timber consisted of two large 
log shacks facing each other, with a horse stable 



A Wak Wr^MAN. 95 

at one side between the main buildings, the whole 
enclosed with a picket of sharp pointed logs, 
placed iiprioht. The stockade was located near 
the lower end of the timber among a scattering 
b'Unch of big old cottonwoods and within one hun- 
dred yards of the river bank. 

About the first of December rumors reached 
the Missouri of an uprising of the half breeds and 
others in the present British province of Mani- 
toba, and a provisional government set in motion 
by the insurgents, with headquarters at Fort Gar- 
ry, a Hudson Bay fur company post, which they 
had captured. The insurrection grew out of some 
injustice done the resident half breeds by the 
offxers of the home government of Ontario. It 
vas charged by the Ontario authorities, however, 
that the whole trouble originated in the fertile 
liTiin of the Hon. Enos Stutsman, a U. S. custom 
house o^f.cer at Pembina, and for many years a 
member of the Dakota Territorial Legislature. — 
How true the charges were is not positively 
known, ^he principals now being dead, but it was 
admitted 1 y those who ought to know, that the 
talented American drafted the Bill of Rights for 
the Provisional goverement, wrote their Constitu- 
tion, and was at all times during these s tiring 
days, an intimate advisor of General Louis Riel, 
^the insurgent leader. 

With the wafting breeze that brought the first 
news of the Red River rebellion over to the Up- 
per Missouri country came also the rumor that 



96 Frontier and Indian Liki:. 

John George Brown, of Fort Stevenson, was 
commissioned to raise a force of hardy frontiers- 
men and come over at once to General Reil's 
assistance. 

Brown was an Irishman, married to a Cree half 
breed woman, and it was said he had formerly 
been an officer in the British army. At the time 
of receiving his commission from the insurgent 
leader, he was post interpretor at Fort Steven- 
son. An organization for the help of the half- 
breeds' Republic was attempted at points along 
the Missouri, but the vacillating conduct of the 
leaders in Manitoba, weakened the resolutions of 
those beyond the border, who wished them ready 
success. A "medicine lodge" for Reil's cause had 
been formed at the Tough Timber, where the long 
nights and isolation, demanded a stimulant for 
mental exercise. Wheeler, a frontiersman who 
had considerable experience was elected chief of 
the lodge, and the Deitrich brothers, chief's coun- 
cellors; Flopping Bill, head soldier, and the hum- 
ble scribe of these pages "keeper of the records." 

On New Year's day, 1870, two Aricaree hun- 
ters came to Tough Timber and asked to encamp 
within the gates of the stockade, as they claimed 
to have some fears that hostile Sioux were in the 
neighborhood. At the break of day next morning 
the writer was awakened from sleep by screeches 
and sounds resembling an owl in distress. I lo- 
cated the sounds as along the river bank near 
where a trap was set for a wolf, and concluded 



A War \\V)max. 97 

the meat bait had drew his owlship to a feast, and 
was caught, so prepared to go and release it. 

The sounds had also awakened the Indians, 
who seeing me prepare to sally out, and divining 
my intentions, Red Shield jumped up excitedly 
and grasping my arm, said in pigeon English! 
*'Hol on, hoi on ! Sioux, Sioux, it's Sioux." And 
meantime motioning me to remain in doors. The 
two Indians jumped for their saddles and slinging 
them on the poni<\s, asked me to unbar the gates 
and after passing out advising their instant closing 
mounted their ponies, passed along the trail 
through the timber to the prairie bluffs. It was 
undoubtedly the indistinctness of early dawn that 
gave the Aricarees the start, for we afterwards 
learned that a war party of Sioux had envested 
our stockade the whole night long for these two 
scalps, but did not discover their successful flight, 
until the morning light revealed them gliding 
swiftly along on the whitened prairie. And then 
commenced a silent chase, the Sioux wisely avoid- 
ing Fort Stevenson, and making a detour to the 
left for this purpose, but crossing the river oppos- 
ite the bad lands midway between Forts Stevenson 
and Berthold. Meantime the two Aricaree hunt- 
ers rode into Fort Stevenson and rested several 
hours before resuming their journey to the village 
anxl Red Shields even then dallied along the trail 
and on entering the bad lands was confronted by 
a band of twenty-five Sioux warriors. After the 
first amazement was over, Red Shield attempted a 



9^ P^'kontier and Indian Life. 

a stand; was badly wounded, but tying himself on 
his pony the faithful beast brought him in safety to 
his lodge. Behind him like a band of panting 
wolves tireing down their prey, increasing in num- 
bers as they came on, until over two hundred 
Sioux warriors bore down neck and ncxk on the 
surprised village at Fort Berdiold. 

The Sioux had well calculated on the a]}sence of 
the principal parL of the \illage inhabiianls; they 
being out in their usual hunting quarters several 
miles further up the river, and but little resistance 
could ]3e expected to their determination to des- 
troy the helpless, little town. 

But Major Wainwright, the gallant and humane 
commandant of Fort Stevenson, had also made a 
calculation. A courier from Fort Rice had alrc:ady 
apprised him of the expected war party, and that 
officer knowing the defenseless condition of the 
remaining Indians at the agency — l.eing for th(^ 
most part the aged and infirm — had sent up a part 
of a battery of artillery under charge of a good 
gunner, and the pieces were masked in an old dirt 
lodge, meeting the charging Sioux with a belch of 
grape and canister. This was so unexpc!c:ed to 
the over-confident warriors that they were dazed, 
thrown in a panic, scatlered, and fled across the 
river among the bluffs southeast of the village. 

On this same afternoon a meeting was held at 
the Tough Timber, by all that were congregated 
there at the time, over a deer roast with a big- 
open fire and an animated discussion concerning 



A War Woman. 99 

the propriety of an early spring expedition to help 
out General Reil against British domination in the 
great interior basin of the Saskatchewan. The sub- 
ject brought out an abundant display of camp fire 
rhetoric, but was quickly hushed by the sudden 
and rapid reverberating sounds of artillery firing 
that echoed and re-echoed along the bends and 
bluffs of the frozen river. Everybody at the 
council jumped to their feet, and it was at once 
surmised by the direction of the sounds, that a 
fight was going on near Fort Berthold, and that 
the use of artillery meant that the soldiers were 
taking a hand. We also concluded that Sioux 
defeat by soldier interference would prompt them 
in their hour of humiliation and rage, to attack the 
first outlying woodyard on their homeward path, 
and that, of course, would mean ours. All haste 
was thereupon made for vigorous defense of the 
stockade. 

An anxious night followed at the woodyard. — 
At daybreak I was detailed to take a walk around 
outside of the stockade, and after an hour's tire- 
some stalking, returned with the information that 
nothing unusual could be seen. But the report 
was hardly made before a vigorous thumping was 
heard at the outside gate, when everybody in the 
room jumped for their rifles. Johnny Deitrich, 
meantime cautiously peering through a porthole, 
whispered in seeming accents of alarm, ''A war 
woman.'* 



lOO P^KONTIKR AND InDTAN LtFE. 

A war woman ! 

Shades of the blood-thirsty Stataans, of the 
forks of Platte river, where the war woman, hid- 
eously dressed and painted, rode beside the war- 
rior in every fray to hack and mutilate the dead I 
War woman, long the sacred female of the Paw- 
nees and Aricarees of other days — ^who led every 
forlorn hope or accompanied every enterprise of 
desperate danger, and stood "medicine" to every 
calamity ! War woman — the ghoul of the Lipians 
of the Mexican border, and blood drinking tiend 
of the Tontas of thc^ desert 1 Who amongst us 
at such a time and such a place wanted to see a 
war t\^oman? 

Yet the ponderous gate was unbolted and its 
unwildy frame swung backwai'd and the muffled 
figure moved within the enclosure. It was sure 
enough an Indian woman, and to all appearances 
was alone, though as a precpaitionary measure the 
gate was closed and bolted behind her, and she 
was bidden be seated by a warm lire iu the cook 
room; which invitation she accepted, with a hesita- 
ting, modest mien. She was tightly wrapped in a 
long blanket of spotless white. Her age might 
have been about thirty years, and the blue star 
tattoed on her forhead and cut of features told us. 
without asking that she was of the Sioux nation. 
Being at this time the only one of the party with 
any knowledge of the Sioux language, 1 was com- 
missioned interpreter for the occasion, and asked 
her whither she was traveling. 




JOHN GRASS. 



A War Woman. ioi 

''Fort Stevenson," she answered crisply. 

Then after some hesitation she told her story. 
She was of the Blackfoot band of the Sioux na- 
tion, and althoiicrh nurtured and raised amono- her 
people she chose a husband among her tribe's 
herititary foes. During a temporary truce she 
visited her relatives at the Grand River agency 
As she came alone she was treated as a penitent. 
— restored to the love and confidence of those 
whom she once abandoned. 

While at the agency she learned of the organiza- 
tion of a war party to revenge the disasters that 
had befallen Two Bears and his Yanktoneys at 
Heart river and the coulee of Four Bears, the past 
summer. The leadership was to be intrusted to 
young John Grass the oldest son of Chief Grass 
the honored head of the Blackfoot band. 

The expedition was being well and secretly 
planned. Nothing but an accident could save 
die predetermined destruction of the Indian village 
at Fort Berlhold and the wholesale slaughter of 
its inhabitants. 

Plain duty to her kith and kin demanded that 
she should remain in her lodee and assist her sis- 
ters; prepare articles of comfort for the out going 
braves. But the promptings of her heart willed 
otherwise. She saw that her husband's people 
was in danger of annihilation. She would save 
him and them. To do this she must travel through 
deep crusted snow afoot and alone for upward of 
two hundred miles along the frozen bed of the 



I02 Frontier and Indtan Like. 

the Missouri. She had undertaken it and the 
journey had been a most trying one. The intense 
cold, the crusted sand bars; the danger at night 
from mountain lions and wolves, while camping in 
some cheerless willow patch, and a scanty supply 
of pemmican and corn, and even that being finally 
exhausted and actual starvation averted by the 
timely find of a frozen buck deer in an air hole 
near Mandan btke, — ^were some of the perils with 
which she had been environed. All for her Aric- 
aree husband's sake. Her courage and iron in- 
durance heretofore so bravely kept up, utterl)^ 
gave way at the mouth of Knife river, but an 
hour before her arrival at the stockade. Here, 
while dragging herself slowly along, John Grass 
and his defeated war party of two hundred came 
suddenly out to view from along the black line of 
willows tliat marked the outlines of Knife river's 
icy bed. What could she do ? By Indian law 
discovery would be her death. But death liad but 
little terror now. Her mission, after all was a 
failure. It was snowing, and by rare presence 
of mind she sank quietly in the snow and envel- 
oped in her white blanket, the whole wai* party 
passed in review by her but a few hundred yards 
away without noting her prescence. 

Her concluding words were son'owfully ren- 
dered: ''I have but to go on to my husband's 
lodge now. I can never again return to the 
Blackfeet." 

The morning following was intensely cold. The 



A War Woman. 



103 



thermometer registering forty degrees below zero, 
with a fierce cutting wind blowing down from 
Arctic lands. The Sioux woman, already badly 
frost-bitten in face, feet and hands on her misera- 
ble trip, would again hazard her life to inclement 
elements, for she determined to resume her jour- 
ney in search of her Aricaree brave. She had 
left him doing duty as military scout at Fort Ste- 
venson. As she neared that post on this January 
day, the wreathing columns- of black smoke beck- 
ened her hopefully forward. The post sentry from 
his box hailed her as she passed by, but on recog- 
nition, was not delayed. Her pace quickened now; 
her frosted face reddened in feverish glow as she 
sped on. See, her husband's lodge is still at the 
old place, and she has sighted it; her heart-beats 
grow tremulous and fast. The door is reached — 
reached at last — poor women. With an expectant 
and joyful bound, she raises the door flaps and 
stood unannounced within. With one wild look 
no artist can imitate or imagination portray, she 
sank down on a mat of skins at the doorway. — 
Her husband was indeed there — but by his side 
sat — in seeming happy content, and wreathed in 
smiles— a younger and fairer female fact-. 

In June, 1876, I took charge of Rhude's Turtle 

Creek Ranch, while its owner was sight-seeing 

across Minnesota's fair and flowery fields. One 

foggy morning about the first of the month, and 

just as the sun was rising, I heard a loud and dis- 



I04 Frontier AND Indtan Life. 

tinct Indian. It came from the high bUiff just 
across the creek, and opposite the ranch a hun- 
dred yards away. On going to the door, to my 
dismay, nearly one hundred and fifty Indians were 
ranged along the bluffs, mounted and sitting com- 
plaisantly in their saddles. One of these, in sten- 
torian tones, demanded of me in the Sioux tongue 
to know where the crossing place was and by this 
sign I knew they were strangers. After passing 
around to the ford, they crossed and the whole 
crew came galloping up around the ranch, when 
an oldish man dismounted, and advancing with 
arms folded-— an unfriendly sign — said in the un- 
mistakable dialect of the Santees: 

''Do you know Little Mountain ?'' 

"Yes, I replied, ''I know you. Little Mountain.^ 
I met you on the ridges of the upper White Earth 
two years ago when you were leaving the buffalo 
grounds for your home in the lands of your white 
mother.'* 

''Land of my white mother, '' drawled out the 
chief in sarcastic tones, and after helping himself 
to a drink of water, remounted his horse and 
with a wave of his hand signalled his command 
forward. One alone remained — ^a female — the 
only one I had noticed in the party. She sat as- 
tride her pony as motionless and expressionless 
as a marbled nymph of the fountain. Her keen 
black eyes peered out towards me from between 
the parting folds of her scarlet blanket, and then 
after a steady gaze of two or three miuutes, threw 



A War Woman. 



T05 



back the hooded mask, saying as interpreted from 
her native Sioux: 

*'Do you know me — do you remember me, say?" 

After a glance at her weather-beaten counten- 
ance for a minute or so, recognition of her came, 
though seven years had passed since we last met 
and then an acquaintance of but a day. I told 
her. finally, who I thought she was, and why. 

"You have nothing to fear from us here," she 
said quietly, emphasizing the last word and then 
rode out and rejoined her companions. 

While watching the war party ascending the 
bluffs, my thoughts again reverted to the chief. 
His words, ''do you know Little Mountain were 
again recalled. Yes I knew of him, but under 
another name. I knew of him since that cold 
December day in 1857, when under the leader- 
ship of Inkpaduta, they destroyed the town of 
Spirit Lake, Iowa, and killed its inhabitants. I 
had heard of his cold hand and stony heart in the 
Minnesota Sioux outbreak of 1862; and when 
pressed by avenging troops, he fled with chief 
Little Six over to Fort Garry and claimed refuge 
and a home on British soil. But unlike his chief 
was not enveigled back to the American side to 
be straneled to death. 

Had I the eyes of futurity I could have seen 
more on that June morning. I could have seen 
this warrior band after leaving the bluffs of Turtle 
creek, head directly for the Indian crossing at 



io6 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

Upper Knife river; could have seen them, after 
crossing the Missouri river, take the high divide 
for the mouth of Powder river, thence up the Yel- 
lowstone valley across to the place of gathering 
hostile clans along the Little Big Horn; could 
have seen the impetuous charge of Custer and his 
men and the fierce fight that followed; could have 
seen in the immediate front of Custer's battalions 
the refuo^ee Santees — outside of the Northern 
Cheyennes, or possibly the Ogallalla Tetons — 
the best deciplined and bravest troops in this In- 
dian army. I could have seen after the last of 
Custer's men had fallen — coming out from the 
ranks of these Santees, and gliding and striking 
like a hesitating serpent among the dead and 
dying soldiers, the most dreaded of horrors to the 
helplessly wounded on an Indian battlefield — an 
avenging red Nemesis — a war woman. 



^ 



SECONDGROUP. 




An Incident at Old Fort Union. 



EARLY DAYS AROUND FORT BUFORD. 

FORT Buford was for many years the most 
noted military post along the Upper Missouri. 
The site was laid out and building commenced 
June 15th, 1866, on a high bench of table land on 
the Missouri, and nearly opposite the mouth of the 
Yellowstone river. For a period reaching over 
thirty years, there had been established and doing 
a good business for its proprietors, an Indian 
trading post, located about three miles northwest 
of the new military post. 

The trading post was known as Fort Union, 
and was built from material after the Spanish- 
American fashion, — a composition of sun dried 
brick called, adobe. The first resident agent of 
the fur company at Fort Union, was a Scotch gen- 
tleman named Mackenzie. The year 1832, the 
noted painter and writer, George Catlin, made a 
several weeks' stay at this place and was hand- 
somely entertained by the hospitable Gael. The 
ardst found exciting and romantic situations for 
pen and pencil. The scenes that he and other 
venturesome travelers describe around old Fort 
Union, prove that from the earliest information we 
have of that section, that it was a central fighung 
ground for numerous warlike tribes. Being near 
the centre of the great northern buffalo range, 



io8 Frontier and Indian Life. 

the country thereabout was seldom devoid of In- 
habitants. A lone butte notheast of the present 
Fort Buford, a few miles, mark the site of the 
close of the adventurous career of this Scotch 
trader. He had been in the habit of riding out for 
daily exercise, unmindful of the dangers that be.- 
set him. One of his favorite points was the butte 
that now bears his name. From its pinnacle a 
vast scope of country could be seen, and he took 
pleasure in watching the great herds of buffaloes 
that grazed upon the plains. His trips became 
marked by a band of scalp hunting red men, and 
one day was ambushed and slain while in the act 
of decending from his perch. 

It was here also, the chronicles of that epic tell 
us, that by the frowning mud walls of this old 
trading post, another agent in charge lost his 
pretty half breed wife, by the aching heart and 
deft hands of a sturdy South Assinaboine brave, 
who had been loitering around in front of the fort 
mounted upon a tractable charger. The petted 
wife was basking in the morning sun near the 
unguarded gateway, when she was suddenly seized 
by the brawny arms of the impetuous wooer, and 
lifted up and thrown across his saddle, and plung- 
ing his heels in his spirited pony's flanks was soon 
scurrying the prairies. The disconsolate husband 
and a few retainers followed out a short ways but 
gave up the chase. Whether the young bride 
was ever recoved by the trader the chronicles do 
not inform us, a missing link, as it were, in the old 



Early Days /\round Fort ByFORD. 109 

adobe fort's history, but the most probable end of 
the romance was that it took prosaic form, that 
the prairie nurtured bride found congeniaHty in 
the tented Hfe along the Riviere Du Lac, with so 
galliant admirer for protector; while the trader's 
grief was seared over by the plentiful offers that 
moved the red parents of pretty maids to place 
themselves in close alliance with the dispensor of 
bright calicoes, shining beads and other fineries 
that tempt the cupidity of the savage breast 

Fort Buford was constructed for a garrison of 
four hundred men. The first commander, was 
Colonel Rankin, of the old Thirty-First regiment, 
U. S. Infantry, afterward consolidated with the 
present Twenty-Second regiment, U. S. Infantry. 

After the massacre of the soldiers at Fort Phil 
Kearney, in December, 1866, large bodies of 
Sioux moved down the Yellowstone to the mouth 
of Powder river, where buffalo were more plenti- 
ful; and the Uncpapa branch of that nation were 
particularly hostile to the occupation of that sec- 
tion by the military. ^ 

In January, 1867, Sitting Bull, then just rising 
to note among Black Moon's band of Uncpapas, 
headed a large war party and made a systematic 
investment of Fort Buford, encamping opposite 
the post in the timber at the junction of the two 
great rivers. On one occasion he sallied out with 
a force of warriors and captured the saw mill near 
the landing and vigorously beat time on the huge 
circular saw as a drum, adding his own sonorious 



no Frontier AND Indian Life. 

voice, while his young braves danced sprightly 
around on fast time, to the disgust of the bad 
gunners at the fort who vainly endeavored to turn 
a corner on their mirth by dropping around them 
whistling, fuseless shells. 

Several soldiers and citizens were killed by 
these Indians in the immediate vicinity of the post 
during the winter. In the four following years 
Fort Buford was virtually in a state of seige, twice 
losing their beef herds and other stock. 

During the close of haying season of 1867, the 
haymakers were undisturbed. Not a hostile In- 
dian had been seen. The hay parties were well 
armed and vigilant. But two loads remained to 
be hauled to close the contract. A young man 
named Roach and a colored man called Tom were 
assigned to bring these last hay loads up from the 
Little Muddy, "We will not bother with our 
guns this time," said Roach and they started off 
without them. The next day a search party found 
the hay loaded, the teams gone and the mangled 
bodies of the two h«iy haulers near by. They had 
been beaten to death with whiffle trees taken from 
one of their own wagons. Twenty one arrows 
was sticking in each corpse. 

In the early part of August, 1868, a war party 
of about seventy Indians attacked the herd below 
the fort, killed, two herders, Max Layman and 
Beal, and u^ounded Henderson, Cooper and Zook, 
all soldiers. The military from the fort under 
Lieutenant Cusickgave chase, captured one Indian 
and killed one and was himself severely wounded. 



Early Days Around Fort Buford. hi 

One of the most noted events during this 
period of the investment was the kilHng of Diigan, 
"Dutch" Adams, McLean, and the Itahan, Ranal- 
do. This took place about two miles from the 
fort on the Little Muddy ha}' trail, August loth, 
1869. These men had just come down from Fort 
Peck, and were mere sojourners at Fort Buford, 
and were bound down to the contractor's first hay 
camp eight miles below. They had been asked by 
Moffit's party who were then at the post unload- 
ing their hay to remain and return down with them 
but they prefered not to wait, so pushed on down 
the trail, riding in a double seated spring wagon 
and a led horse. The Indians were in hiding in a 
deep water cut coulee, to the number of two hun- 
dred, and were completely hidden from view 
along the trail. The Indians were stripped for a 
fight, evidently laying in wait for Capt. Bob Mof- 
fit, and his outgoing hay train, when this party 
of four men appeared within their circle of am- 
bush. Over one hundred rifles sent their death 
messengers among the astounded group in the 
wagon box. All three horses were killed at the 
first fire, and some of the men wounded. They 
all jumped from the wagon and attempted a re- 
treat for cover. A few hundred yards to the left 
of the road the hunted men made a stand in a 
buffalo wallow, and in thirty minutes all four were 
dead. Renaldo, although dressed conspicuously 
in a gaudy red shirt was the last to fall, as evinced 
from his position when found. He died within 



112 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

sight of the flag staff. The bodies were found an 
hour later by George Rhude and Isaac Howy, of 
Moffit's train, and taken to the miHtary post.— 
About the same time an attack was made on the 
camp at Painted Woods creek, but the Indians 
were repulsed without loss to the haymakers. The 
Indians engaged in this affair were from mixed 
bands of hostile Sioux, and their loss has never 
been definitely ascertained. One dead Indian, on- 
ly, was found on the line of the retreating braves. 

The summer months of 1870, opened at Fort 
Buford with the usual demonstrations from hostile 
Sioux. Yellowstone Kelly, a reckless frontiers- 
man, and his companion Longhair Smith success- 
fully ran the gauntlet and supplied the garrison 
occasionally with fresh elk and deer meat from the 
Yellowstone. Kelly was reckoned a sort .of a bor- 
der Sphinx, and had earned something of an Adam 
Poe reputation by killing two Sioux two years be- 
fore near Upper Knife river. He was carrying 
the Fort Buford mail; was attacked by these two 
Indians and he shot back. 

About the middle of June, a party of wood- 
haulers in the employ of the Government con- 
tractor while leasurly whacking their bull teams 
along the trail about two miles above the adobe 
walls of old Fort Union, were horrified to see a 
body of Indians raise up from among the sage 
brush and open fire at short range. What made 
the teamsters situation more trying was that they 



Early Days Around Fort Buford. 113 

anticipating no danger had foolishly shot away 
their ammunition along the road that morning at 
prairie grouse, plover and targets, and had but lit- 
tle left for a time of need. The startled teamsters 
broke for cover in a timbered ravine, while some 
mounted scouts ran back to Buford and alarmed 
the garrison. Meantime, after killing all the cat- 
tle in the train, the Indians turned their attention 
to the terrified bulhvhackers holed in the ravine, 
and making a complete surround the exultant 
red men commenced to feather them with ar- 
rows and ^vould have soon killed them all had not 
relief (rom the fort came at the opportune time. 
A call by the contractor for more cidzens to 
help along the lagging work, found the writer and 
several others of the Fort Stevenson neighbor- 
hood, on their way to Fort Buford, early in July 
of the same year. At the White Earth river we 
were joined by a band of disgusted wood choppers 
from a fortified woodyard at North Bend, and were 
caught up to by George Kiplin the half breed mail 
carrier and his rolicking partner, "Scotty" Rich- 
mond. If presentiment of coming shadows cast 
their spells over men and chain down their thoughts 
with impending revelation, such forewarning cer- 
tainly haunted spectre like the movements of the 
brave half breed on this trip. He was usually 
rash and reckless, verging the dare-devil order, 
but after joining our crowd seemed very nervous 
and was continually expressing his fears that some- 
thing awful would overtake us before the journey's 



114 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

end. We run the Fort Buford gauntlet safely, but 
Kiplin returned to Fort Berthold a corpse. 

Among the party of wood-choppers from the 
North Bend, was a young man named Aldrich, 
commonly known along the river as "Teck" Aid- 
rich. He was about twenty years old, clear blue 
eyes, supple and graceful in his motions, tall and 
straight as an arrow. He wore his hair long — 
the conventional frontier style — and otherwise 
togged himself up in the prevailing fashion on the 
border. He was rather bashful in conversation, 
and seldom spoke out an opinion unless asked to 
do so, and yet he w^as the recognized leader of the 
party. He was a good marksman, a successful 
hunter, and although in a dangerous neighborhood 
usually hunted afoot and alone, packing his game 
into camp on his shoulders. He became the uni- 
versal favorite of the whole party, and was voted 
the spokesman on our entry into the fort. On 
our arrival we scattered out to the different sta- 
tions, Teck becoming day guard for the wood con- 
tractor's camp at the mouth of the Yellowstone, 
nearly opposite the fort. Guards in these danger- 
ous and exposed places, were generally chosen for 
their good sound ears, quick eyesight, and also 
some r(^gard for their hunting qualities, as watch- 
ing around gives them opportunity to note the 
whereabouts of, and plentiful Icasure the con- 
venience and time to kill and dress their gr.me, 
and thus keep the camp larder well supplied with 
fresh wild meat. 



Early Days Around Fort Buford. 115 

The morning of the 25th of September, of that 
year, was clear and calm; the sun arose serenely 
over the bluffs of the divide, and after a lingering 
fog slowly raised from the slow rolling waters of 
these two majestic streams, its rays sparkled and 
glistened on the heavy dew drops that covered 
the low valley and high plain. The heavy-leafed 
cottonwoods grlinted in the sunlicrht with its au- 
tumn tinted shades of mixed yellow and green, 
looked soft and picturesque to an admiring eye. — 
The light saffron colored bluffs on the high divide, 
alone e^ve the morninsf view a sombre cast. 

It was on such a scene as this that Teck Aldrich 
looked, after having rolled from his blankets and 
stood on the river bank, gun in hand for his morn- 
ing's watch and hunt. The fort opposite, by a 
kind of mirage, rose high above the banks — its 
whitened walls and shining windows seeming more 
to opdcal illusion and the fantasy of imagination, 
the abode of disembodied spirits, rather than the 
unappreciated home of a lot of tough old soldiers 
in the flesh. 

Young Aldrich had been barbered of his long 
hair the day before, seemingly a fatal omen to 
many frontiermen; but with ritie to his shoulder 
he strode out through the cottonwood grove to 
the bullberry openings, adjoining the bluffs. He 
saw neither deer or elk, where on previous morn- 
ings he had met them in numbers. This alone 
should have made him pause and reflect; and he 
probably did, but the camp would expect a fresh 



ii6 Fron'iiij^ AND Indian Life. 

deer for breakfast, and one he must bring them. 
He had now advanced to the outside opening 
near the bluffs, when from the tall grass, and from 
the screen of bullberry and choke cherry bushes, 
rose fully two hundred hideously painted and yell- 
ing savages, each and all eager for his scalp. He 
did not run. He did not even turn his back; but 
sprang forward among his swifdy encircling foes, 
face to face — and though the odds were two hun- 
dred against one, commenced to pump his Win- 
chester, and at every crack of the rifle a painted 
form washed his face in the morning dew— five 
shots and five dead Indians; but on the sixth shot 
the plunger of his rifle became misplaced and with 
a dispairing cry he sprang forward with his gun as 
club, but his w^ork was done. He was instantly 
hacked to pieces with tomahawks and knife point- 
ed war clubs. 

"I have helped to kill a great many white peo- 
ple along this river," said Red Shirt, an Uncpapa 
chief, while on a visit to Grennell's ranch near 
Strawberry island, in 1875, "but I never saw one 
fight so well or die so bravely as that boy at the 
mouth of the Yellowstone. 



A WAR PARTY OF TERES. 

SOME time durincr the latter part of July, 1870. 
while with the hay contractor's camp at Fort 
Buford, 'we moved up the river bottom to the 
springs, some twelve miles northwest of the post. 
The springs were in a large coulee shut up among 
the hills; and contained considerable grass, which 
our party soon converted into fine hay. One sul- 
try afternoon, while busy at work, some of the 
men were surprised at the sudden appearance of 
a mounted Indian, and who seemed no less sur- 
prised than they at coming so unexpectedly on a 
camp of white men at that place. All hands went 
and picked up their guns and surrounded the In- 
dian boy — for a boy he proved to be — and as many 
of the men already had considerable taste of the 
bitter of Indian hostility, they were not slow in 
bringing him to a "talk" concerning his business 
in these parts. He announced himself a Santee 

which tribe by the way was in very bad repute 

at the time along the Upper Missouri. He said, 
furthermore his destination was Fort Buford where 
his band were then encamped. 

From the fact that the boy when first seen was 
heading directly away from the fort, and that some 
of the party who claimed to know, said there were 
no Santees encamped around the post up to that 



ii8 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

very morning rather prejudiced the minds of men 
who wanted but a small excuse for conscience 
sake to "rub out the Indian." 

While this examinadon was going on, being 
the regular night guard of the camp, I was awak- 
ened from my midday slumber by one of the day 
guards who said I was wanted as interpreter in 
the matter of a "corraled" Indian. Shaking off 
the blankets I arose, went out and greeted the 
confused and somewhat frightened boy kindly. — 
He was mounted upon a fine pony, though the an- 
imal was in a lather of sweat and seemed weary. 
The Indian boy had a Hawkins muzzle-loading 
rifle slunor across in front of him and no clothincr 
on his person but a single breech cloth. Taken 
altogether, was a very suspicious looking outfit 
for a man of peaceful habits. My dialectic knowl- 
edge convinced me the lad was of some Santee 
band. Some of the party were for killing him out- 
right, but were shamed out of it by the calmer 
judgment of others. He was therefore allowed 
to depart which he did very quickly. My part- 
ing admonition to him to bear toward the fort so 
long as he was in sight of our party, or he might 
be followed up and killed. I half suspected he 
belonged to or w^as making his way to Standing 
Buffalo's band of Santees, who were then camped 
somewhere on Milk river. At any ratc^ die young 
warrior — if such he was — put in no appearance at 
Fort Buford, and except with a chronicle anteda- 
ting the scene at the spring — his fate is unknown. 



A War PAinvoF Three. 119 

Two or three days after the appearance and dis- 
appearance of the Santee boy, a paymaster and 
escort arrived at Fort Biiford from Fort Stevenson, 
who gave an account of an affair that fully ac- 
counted for the lost and terrified appearance of the 
Santee lad. The particulars of the affair was ful- 
ly discussed on their arrival and from which I 
memorized the following: 

The escort was commanded by Major Dickey, 
of the 22nd U. S. Infantry, of Fort Stevenson. 
The command consisted of twenty men, and the 
first day out encamped near the Rising Waters, a 
small stream some twenty-five miles up the river 
trail from Ft. Berthold. While here encamped 
they werf^ met by two mail riders coming down 
from Fort Buford, Keplin and ''Scotty" Richmond, 
two of the most fearless of the frontier mail car- 
riers. While the parties were thus encamped at 
their nooning, three Indians were seen coming 
over the bluffs from the direction of the Fort Ber- 
thold agency, mounted and riding at full speed, 
but on seeing the military campers, shied the road 
and dashed toward some timbered ravines in the 
direction of the Slides, near the Missouri. Seeing 
the Indians making this, if not unfriendly, at least 
unacountable move, Major Dickey ordered up 
some soldiers and with Kiplin in the lead went 
after the fleeing Indians. 

George Kiplin, was one of the decendents of 
the orignal Scotch founders of the famous Selkirk 
settlement on the Red River of the North. His 



20 



Frontii:r ani) IxTvr.w Life. 



mother was ?l Cree woman as were most of the 
Indian wives of the original Selkirk colony. Kip- 
lin was thoroughly conversant with many of the 
Indian languages contingent to that section of 
country. He was considered one of the most 
trustworthy mail carrier's on the northern plains. 

On this occasion, and at this critical time the 
mail carriers had secured possession of some bad 
whiskey and Kiplin was under influence when he 
led the charge. He was far in advance of the 
soldiers, but when the pursued reached the foot 
of a timbered ravine they reined up their panting 
ponies and awaited with evident unconcern the 
coming of Kiplin and the soldiers. 

"Who are you?" yelled Kiplin in Sioux to the 
Indians, as he rode up within good call, though 
he halted for reply and seemed evidently discom- 
fited by the sublime nonchalance of the Indians. 

"I am Bad Hand, the Sisseton," replied the 
self possessed warrior, and pointing his hand to 
his companions, added, "these are my friends, 
I see you are white soldiers. My people are good 
friends of the vjhites. Why do you pursue us?" 

"I have come to fight you," Kiplin said quickly. 

"Then fight it is !" cried the swarthy Sisseton, 
raising his gun to his face; with the word a rifle's 
report, and Kiplin dropped from his horse with a 
ball through his heart. The triumphant red then 
dismounted and rushing up to the dead man taking 
up his charged needle gun and belt of cartridges 
ran back to the shelter of the grove. 



A War Par IV of Three. 121 

About this time a large body of mounted In- 
dians was seen by the solders riding furiously to- 
ward them from over the brow of a line of bluffs, 
and the commander, knowing that his duty was to 
protect the paymaster, and fearing this incoming 
mass of men were a body of hostile savages with- 
drew with all haste toward camp. 

On closer range the Indians were discovered to 
be Gros Ventres and Mandans, and were in fren- 
zied pursuit of the very party holed in the ravine. 
A surround was at once made of the ^rove in 
which the fugitives were last seen to enter, and in 
which the un terrified Sissetons stood defiantly at 
bay. 

"We have come to kill you, Bad Hand," said 
Poor W'olf, the proud leader of the Gros Ventres. 
*'You have been a very bad man; killed our peo- 
ple; stolen our horses. You do not deserve to 
live, therefore prepare to die." So saying a vol- 
ley was nred into the ravine. 

After a few minutes interval, the Sisseton brave 
spoke out from his covert, and thus replied to the 
Gros Ventre chief: 'You will kill us. You are 
hundreds in number, while I am alone. My com- 
rade is wounded and dying. But bear in mind my 
enemy, Bad Hand will not go alone to the Spirit 
land." 

With these words the talk ended, and all pre- 
pai'ed for the close of the tragedy. Some one was 
needed to draw the fire from the Sisseton when 
the rest would rush in to his hiding place before 



122 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

he could reload — a very quick motion, beino^ 
necessary, when the dead mail carrier's captnred 
needle gun is remembered. A young Mandan 
was chosen for the ordeal — a fair faced boy whom 
the writer had often noticed around the Indian vil- 
lage at Fort Berthold. He was loaded doc\ni with 
the mysteries of Indian superstition; war chants. 
were sung and then he was rubbed over by the 
priest of the Mandans, after which the poor 
doomed boy started for the timber covert. 

A shot from the brush and the young Mandana 
was dead. Two hundred shots from without and 
Bad Hand is in his death throes. 

The Santees were then scalped and the head of 
the brave Bad Hand was cut off to be and carried 
in grand triumphal entry into their village. 

"Where is the third Sisseton Santee," exclaimed 
the Gros Ventre chief, after a thorough search had 
been made of the premises, ''we followed three 
thieves from our horse pastures!" 

Where indeed was he ? I will answer. The 
father died that he might save his son. It was 
three days after this event that the Indiaji boy had 
appeared at our hay camp above Fort Buford. 




LSGEND OF THE PAINTED WOODS. 

THERE arc two considerable bodies of timber 
along the connecting strips that follow the 
Upper Missouri's two thousand mile course, that 
while not pariicularly larger than other timber 
stretches along its devious line, yet were long 
marked by the red nati\es as points of hollowed 
interest in epoch ^> of their tribel history but are 
were fast disappearing with time's unending evo- 
lutions. Each of these forests were but the pro- 
duct of the "made" lands of the ever changing 
river's course narrowed down to very limited 
space between two ever attending high walls 
whose crusts are of adamantine hardness. 

Each of these disconnected groups of forests 
had been known as Painted Woods and a space of 
nearly two hundred miles separted them. The 
upper line of timbered groves so named stretched 
for a space of several miles along the Missouri, 
l^etween the mouths of the lower Little Muddy 
and the Yellowstone rivers, and it seemed to have 
Ijcen known only by that name within the last 
hundred years, or thereabout. 

The lower, or Painted Woods proper, is situated 
alang the Missouri river between the Square 
Pnittes, in the present county of Oliver, and Tur- 
tle creek, in the county of McLean, North Dakota. 



124 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

The river bottom lands about the woods; the 
low bench lands of the ascending plains; the high 
uplands and the ragged, rough looking buttes, are 
grouped in fantastic shapes that make the whole 
landscape pleasing to an artistic eye. 

To the south, the great domes of the kaleidos- 
copic Square Buttes stand out like mighty fort- 
resses, bold and impregnable looking as a Giberab 
ter; gloomy and lonely as the Pyramids on Africa's 
sandy plain. 

To the west, the high ridged graceful beauty 
— the Antelope hills meet the vision; while to the 
north your eyes wander along the ciu'ved lines of 
the mighty Missouri to the great bend where sits 
in mirage halo, the showy little town of Washburn. 

To the east, high above the uneven prairies, and 
deep defiles — pinnacles and land points covered 
with stone — towers the frowning- buttes of th(^: 
Yanktoney, whose exterior garp change readily 
with the seasons, and like a huge time clock that 
it is, heed the passing hour if it does not record it. 

Along the northeastern border of the woods, 
half hidden among strips of forests of ash, willow 
and Cottonwood, lies the gourd shaped lake of die 
Painted Woods — the Broken Axe lake of ihc^ 
Sioux; the Medicine Lodge lake of the early 
day trapper, and a paradise for wild game. — 
Here among the thickets, and underneath ihc^ 
shades of spreading trees, the elk and the deer 
were seen in their wild natural beauty; here along 
the ever placid shores of the lake, the. industrious 



Lf.gknd of iiiK Paintki) Woods. 125 

beaver once buildecl their houses in fancied security, 
but in an evil hour drove to destruction by the 
rovino- trapper, against whose arts the poor indus- 
trious and harmless dwellers of these shady re- 
treats, parried in points of sagacity — but parried 
in vain. 

Here, too, the brown bear, in his coat of cinna- 
mon hue, once luxuriated among the grape, the 
plum, and the toothsome bullberry, and found 
among the trunks of massive trees, a good pro- 
tecdon from hoary frosts and blizzardy blasts in 
his long winter nap. The wild buffalo of the 
plain, also found the cooling shades and limpid 
waters a resting wallow, where with him and his 
kind a dozing summer's day was lost in the count 
of passing time. 

In the rememberance of the oldest fur trader or 
trapper of the northern plains, the Painted Woods 
had been known as the forbidden or neutral 
trround between the Sioux on the one hand and 
Mandans. Gros Ventres and Aricarees on the 
odier. There had been exceptional short periods, 
when by main strength of numbers or boldness, 
one side then the other occupied the land. But 
to meet here was to fight here. The grusome 
legends about the shock of arms between these 
warlike savage men, when told by the venerable 
aboriginal keeper of the tribel records, would 
take the hypnotic mind of the listening guest 
through the fumes of an after-supper smoke, to the 
dreartiy hours of another day. 



126 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

The last encounter but one, took place in April. 
1869. Although the writer was not a witness of 
the affair, yet it fell to my lot to attend the last 
funeral rites of one of the slain. The particulars 
of the hostile meeting was as follows : A roving 
party of Mandans was suddenly beset by a war 
party of Tw^o Kettle Sioux. After a few inter- 
change of shots, one of the Sioux warriors step- 
ped out to the front of the line facing his enemies 
asked in a loud voice, who dare meet him in sin- 
gle combat? "I," replied a young Mandan' "will 
meet you ?" and so saying rushed forward and at 
a twinkling shot down his antagonist. As the Man- 
dan was in the act of drawing his knife and reach- 
ing out to grasp his enemy's scalp-lock, the dying 
Sioux dreiv his bow and sent its fatal shaft through 
the heart of his victorious foe. The surviving 
combatants, after an attempted renewal of strife, 
went their several ways and so ended the Indian 
"affair of honor" among the painted trees. 

One beautiful autumn day in 1872, after a 
weary morning's jog around the trap line. I lay 
down upon a grassy knoll near the shore of th(^ 
beautiful lake, ruminating in silent thought and 
listlessly watching for the time being, the myriads 
of wild fowl skimming, lightly over the lake — 
seeming alike fearless of the hunter and the hawk 

when I was startled by the hum of many voices, 

who on approaching proved to be a hunting pariy 
of Mandans. After the usual fussy salutations 
that the wild Indians are prone to indulge iit when 



LicFM) oi' I iiF, Painted Woods. 127 

iheir numbers and humor justify hllariLy. The)' 
sat clown in the usual Indian fashion, in semi-circle 
form and lighted up the pipe and started it on its 
rounds of curling, fragrant smoke and brotherly 
good will. 

The leader of the party proved to be Scar Face, 
the young son of Red Buffalo Cow, head chief of 
the Mandans. This young fellow had always cul- 
tivated a sincere attachment for the whites, and I, 
on more than one occasion, relied on his good will 
to keep his meddlesome companions from pluck- 
ing my spare baggage on these lone fur hunting 
excursions. After the pipe had passed the rounds 
two or three times, and w^ith the tobacco pouch 
placed by the side of its carrier, I asked my 
young Mandan friend if he could tell me why the 
Red people called these neighboring timber points 
the Painted Woods ? "Yes, Trapper replied the 
young chief, "and if you listen I will tell you." — 
My ears are open," I replied in Indian fashion, 
and after a short pause he told the following story: 

"Many long years ago, when the Mandan vil- 
lages w^ere large and numerous, they occupied and 
were masters of all this section of country. The 
Sioux lived hundred of miles toward the land of 
th(! rising sun, but then as now, — wicked men, — 
came here to fight and kill our people and drive 
off our herds. We w^ere strong then, and often 
brought the horrors of war to their own lodges. 

Once when the hearts of all sank heavy with 
the bloody turmoil, and under restless insecurity, 



128 Frontikr AND Indian Life. 

a pipe of peace was sent forth unto all tht! warring 
bands north, to meet in a great peace council at 
this lake, then but a mere arm of the ri\ er. The 
Mandans assembled from their neiehborini^ vil- 
lages. From the far north came the frost eared 
Assinaboines and their tandem trains of dogs; 
from the west came the black leg Anahaways, 
well dressed, haughty and silent. From the 
northwest came the plumed and painted Gros 
Ventres, and with them as guests rode the oaily 
dressed Crows, with suspicious hearts and prying 
eyes. And from the south earner up the Yank- 
toney with their cold stare and silent tongue, riding 
bands of stolen horses. Then last came the hid- 
den faced Sissetons who spoke only among them- 
selves. 

Our fathers as owners of the land were the in- 
tertainers, and received their guests with extended 
hands and good hearts. Buffaloes, elks, antelopes 
and deer were plentiful, and harvests of pump- 
kins, squashes, melons and corn were bountiful — 
the season of the tinted leaves had brought them 
clear balmy days, so that this grand comingling 
of these northern nations^ was but a continuous 
spread of gormandizing feasts — an assemblage of 
joy and brotherly good will. 

Sometime during this happy state of affairs, the 
jealous eyes of some of the young Mandan war- 
riors detected the assidious attentions of a gay 
young Yanktoney, to the daughter of a Mandan 
chief. She was winsome and beatitiful — the belle 



Lfcent) oi hie Painted Woods. 129 

of all the villages, and many were the wooers who 
offered her their hearts and their hands only to be 
refused. And. now, that she seemed to encoiir- 
aoe die proffc^red and profuse blandishments of 
die Yanktoney — a stranger and an enemy, — one 
who had, perhaps, embued his hands in the blood 
of their murdered relatives, troubled them sorely. 
The'v remonstrated without effect — they plead 
without favor. Hie girl quietly and determinedly 
prepared to quit the lodg(! of her father and the 
village of her good people, to follow the uncertain 
fortunes of he who had entranced the confiding 
li'^art and bewildered her mind. 

When all devices had failed to separate the lov- 
ers, the soldiers of the Mandan town of which the 
maid's father was chief, issued an edict, and exe- 
cuted it. They assembled at the midnight hour 
and slew the Yanktoney in his love's embrace. 

The murder was done. The war-whoop rang 
out through the darkness and was echoed and re- 
echoed from lodge to lodge and band to band, un- 
til all the camps were stirred up in a mighty up- 
roar. The comrades of the murdered lover were 
told in loud acclaim by the criers of the camp 
what had happened. After their momentary daze 
was over the Yanktoneys strung their bows, drew 
their arrows from their quivers and gathered 
around the dead man's bier, where the mourning 
maiden kneeling in grief ; in abject woe, was cru- 
elly filled with arrows, and left her gasping in death. 
All then dispersed to wait for the light of day. 



130 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

With the licrht of morning came war — the sack 
of camps and villages — the lonely murders — the 
burning of forests of timber and the wide ranges 
of dry grass upon the plains — waste and want and 
gameless deserts, deep snow; all followed in train. 

The bodies of the murdered lovers ere the 
place was forsaken, were in custom of the tribe 
placed together in the branches of a mighty elm, 
near where we now sit. The tree withered and died. 
Its bark pealed from its trunk and became glazed 
and whitened like the bones o( its exposed dead. 

For these many years the war has raged. We 
have no forgiveness to offer. We ask for none. 
As years followed in war and we were drove west 
of yonder big river, the Sioux especially in winter 
made their war party rendesvous of attack here. 
They painted up before onslought, and in mere 
bravado counted their "coup" with artistic flourish 
in character upon the whitened body of the lover's 
tree. We in turn retaliated in kind, and carried 
the hieroglyphic art to a bunch of great cotton- 
woods that stood near by; hence. Painted Woods. 

"This my friend," he concluded "is the story 
from our fathers." 

When the young chief concluded, the war- 
riers remounted and filed past the old Indian grave 
yard, the tattered biers in numbers then still stand- 
ing, and near where the famous old elm had once 
stood. They here paused for a moment then trail- 
ing out of sight through the high bushes, left me in 
silent communion over the l(;gend and the passing 
liy of the narrator and his band, like shadows of 
an imperfect dream. 



THE LETTER IN CIPHER. 

FORT Stevenson was established in June, 1867, 
being the last post built to complete the mil- 
itary chain between the Red River of the North 
and mouth of Yellowstone river. It was planned 
and constructed as a military post, there being no 
especial fears of hostile Indians, as the village of 
the Mandans, Gros Ventres and Aricarees, was 
but seventeen miles west of the post, and these 
were friendly to the Government, thereby making 
it uncomfortable for small bands of maraudino- 
Sioux, that usually infest the neighborhood of 
a military post built within the limits of their 
range. Thus it was that the post graveyard never 
contained the name of but one soldier's last rest- 
ing place marked on the head board "killed by 
Indians." a familliar enough inscription on the 
tombstones at the burying grounds of the neigh- 
boring posts. 

To men brought up in thickly populated com- 
munities of the east with the advaniaees of so 
much diversity in their e very-day life, a small post 
so isolated from the busy world as Fort Stevenson 
was, made living there very tedious and irksome 
to such, and consequently when a soldier was dis- 
charged from service, he usually took himself out 
of the country as soon thereafter as possible. — 



132 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

The unlucky gambler or the whiskey drinker, 
often came out of the service on the wrong side 
of their final statements, and were therefore often 
compelled, by their necessitious condition, to 
either re-enlist or hunt work in some neighboring 
wood camp. 

Robert E , a good appearing, tidy and 

trusty soldier, was one of those who had unfort- 
unately contracted a love of whiskey somewhere 
In his eastern home, the taste for which. In his 
case, at least, frontier isolation could not eradicate. 
He came out of the service at Fort Stevenson, 
(une, 1869, with a good honest discharge, but a 
small purse, and sought employment In a wood- 
yard, but after blistering his hands over a small 
pile of wood for a few days, came back to the 
post and re-enlisted In his old company to do duty 
for Uncle Sam for another term of years. 

On the I ith day of June, iS'70, Carlos Reider, 
or Charley Reeder, as he was more commonly 
called, a German, and proprietor of a woodyard at 
the Painted Woods, was killed at his place by one 
of his choppers, known by name as Johnny Buck- 
tail. On the same day Bucktail started with some 
witnesses of the affair, to Fort Stevenson and sur- 
rendered himself as a prisoner to the military au- 
thorities at that place. Major Warnwright, the 
officer in command, Immediately started out Dr. 
Mathews, the post surgeon, and a detail of men, 
to find Reeder and bury him, and take possession 
of his effects. The soldiers gathered together all 



!•« 



The Letter in Cipher. 133 

his portable property, including his teams and re- 
turned to the Fort, reported to the quartermaster 
and turned over the property to his care. 

Among- the dead man's household trumpery was 
a small batch of old books and some correspon- 
dence, and with these the following letter in ci- 
pher, drafted from memory of original, but be- 
lieved to be substantially corrct : 

FoRi Stevenson, Sep. 18, '69. 
Friend Charley— Paymaster here soon. Come. 
Bring big gun of poison. M. at o. p. Shave tails. 
Don't talk. Money plenty. When — 

Bob E 

Bucktail was tried for Reeder's murder before 
the U. S. court at Yankton the year following, and 
after a lengthy hearing was convicted of man- 
slaughter and sentenced to one year's imprison- 
ment in the Fort Madison, Iowa, penitentiary. 

The prisoner's side of the case had been ably 
defended by Bartlett Tripp, afterwards Dakota 
Territory's chief justice under the first Cleveland 
admistration, and under the second term, Amer- 
ica's ambassador to Austra. The prosecution in 
the case had been opened by the prosecuting at- 
torney Cowles, but who early turned it over 
to young Williams, a modest but aspiring bar- 
rister who here made his first public plea—an elo- 
quent and forcible one on behalf of justice to the 
memory of the friendless dead man. Attorney 
E. A. Williams later on served several terms in the 
terrttorial legislature; once speaker of the house, 



134 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

and after the northern half came into the union as. 
the State of North Dakota, he was one of the most 
useful and talented members of the constitutional 
convention, and was soon thereafter appointed 
Surveyor General of the new State by President 
Harrison. 

Major Wainwright, of P'ort Stevenson beinc> 
summoned before the court at Yankton as a wit- 
ness on the Bucktail trial, the command of that 
post devolved upon Major Dickey, the second of- 
ficer in rank. The new- commander's first official 

act of any consequence was the arrest of E 

and his confinement in the guard house. The 
nervious officer thought he saw in this ciphered 
letter a key to a terrible conspiracy that had most 
providentially miscarried. In his interpretation of 

the missive, Reeder, wath E and possibly 

others were in a conspiracy to intercept the pay- 
master on his regular cash distribution visit to the 
post, and rob him of the plethoric rolls of green- 
backs that he usually carried around with him on 
such occasions. The word "poison" he took in 
its literal sense and saw a narrow escape of him- 
self and fellow officers and such of the garrison 
likely to be troublesome. That the conspiracy^ 
must have failed or thwarted from some unknown 
cause, or had been deferred to another time was 
made evident from the date of the letter, and the 
arrival and departure of the paymaster at the time 
specified without accident or anything of a suspi- 
cious nature. The Major, as officer of the da.y. 



The Letter in Cipher. 135 

had grievous trouble some time before with Ree- 
der about supplying his soldiers with whiskey, 
thereby causing insubornadon and trouble, and on 
one occasion had him arrested and shipped out of 
the country. 

E , on his part did not not deny the author- 
ship of the letter and his explanadon was simple 
enough to all who cared to give it thought or who 
were cognizant of the facts, except the doughty 
Major in question. Reeder had been in the habit 
of trading with some of the bar keepers of the 
passing steamers for a cheap kind of whiskey for 

the soldiers, and E being one of his best cus« 

tomers acted as a kind of a middleman in the 
transacdon, for such of his companions who cared 
for the liquid and its attendant effects. "M. o. p." 
meant to meet at the old place, that being on the 
reservation limit at Snake creek. Newly en- 
listed soldiers were dubbed in post parlance 
* 'shave tails," in humorous take-off to the fact 
that all newly purchased mules by Government 
have their tails closely shaved. The two carriers 
who had brought Reeder the letter were new sol- 
dier recruits and he was so warned — as the sale 
of whiskey around a military post otherwise than 
what the regular sutler kept, was interdicted. — 
**Big gun" answered for a ten gallon keg, and 
^'plenty money" to pay for it would come with the 
paymaster. 

Owing to the officers well known antipathy to 
R<*eder, the soldier's arrest was at first looked 



136 Frontier ANiJ Indian Life. 

upon as a mere diversion in favor of the prisoner 
Biicktail's release at Yankton, but after events 
did not show it. The letter had been placed be- 
fore his honor Judge Brookings, the presiding 
functionary before whom the case was being tried, 
but was considered of no consequence and irrevi- 
lent to the case, merely showing up the murdered 
man in the light of a worthless character. 

Soon after these events the command at Fort 
Stevenson was relieved by two other companies 
and with the prisioner E still confined with- 
out a hearing, they all moved to quarters else- 
where. 

Fort Sully is a handsomely constructed and 
beautifully located post. It was named after a 
noble old hero of the frontier, who figured so 
prominently on these northern plains after the 
Sioux war of Minnesota, in 1S62. The fort was 
established July 25th, 1866, and intended to be 
occupied by four companies of soldiers. It is 
built upon a high bench overlooking the meander- 
ings of the great river Missouri. From the wavy 
meadows of the Okabosia on the south to the dis- 
tant breaks of the bluffs along the Cheyenne rivers 
on the north and west; the whole landscape is en- 
chanting and weird. The summer breezes are 
ever blowing — gentle airy zephyrs we may call 
them in fine summer weather — that are ever fan- 
ning the cheeks of the weak and strong — the just 
and the unjust — as indiscriminate in its distribu- 



The Letter in Cipher. 137 

tion of favors as the^ great fiery orb of day 
himself. 

The month of August 1872, was passing quiet- 
ly on at this delightful summer post. Indian 
troubles had long since ceased, and peace and 
quiet reigned on every hand. On one of these 
still August days of that year, a tall, gaunt spec- 
tre — a mere skeleton of a man — came hobbling 
out of the south gates, leaning heavily upon his 
cane. Once outside where he could breathe the 
free air of heaven, he looked around about him in 
a vacant abstracted way, as though the bright 
sun, the clear sky and the hne landscape of the 
green fringed river had no charms for him — yet 
they seemed so new and so strange. His eyes 
were glassy and sunken and the pallor of hurry- 
ing death was branded on his brow. After staring 
around for a few moments in a helpless sort of a 
way, he sank heavily upon the ground in a dazed 
manner, and in utter languidness, as unable lon- 
ger to bear up with the burdens of attendant 
ills to his tired emaciated body. 

"Good morning Bob, how do you feel this morn- 
ing" said a pleasant faced soldier passing that 
way. 

"Oh, I am dying my dear boy, I am dying," 
feebly answered the the invalid, as he turned his 
eyes in pensive sadness to the ground. 

This dying man — this physical wreck, — was 

Robert E who but two years before was 

the finest looking specimen of the physical soldier 



138 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

to be found in the garrison at Fort Stevenson. — 
Eighteen long and weary months chained with 
double irons to the oaken floor of the guard 
room; a punishment that the horrors of the soH- 
tary dungeon would be tame to, or the enforced 
torture of a vermin infested bastile, commonplace. 
Eighteen months, I say, lying chained down on 
the broad of his back, in stress and pain, in hoarse 
supplications for a trial or for death. Would a 
kind God in his mercy now grant the one, as the 
madman in a Major's uniform had so long refused 
the other. 




BULL BOATINQ THROUGH THE SIOUX 
COUNTRY. 

THERE are tinier that a little foolishness sway 
our minds into actions which at another time 
would appear flighty and ridiculous. After the 
passing of many years, I think the inauguration 
and execution of a bull boat journey in 187 i, was 
conceived at a period when the bump of foolish- 
ness within the phrenological chart developed into 
tumor-like proportions on the craniums of the pro- 
jectors of that voyage. 

Many of the frontiermens' dull hours or inactive 
spells, during the taunts and banters and accom- 
pany the breaks of listless conversation, often re- 
solve to do things, that they would gladly retract 
could they be permitted to do so, without subjecting 
themselves to the ridicule of their quizzical com- 
panions — resolved acts of some foolhardy scheme 
that have neither justification or excuse. 

When Yellowstone Kelly and Stub Wilson, at 
their woodyard near Porcupine creek, in the fall of 
1 87 1, waked up one morning to find that twenty- 
five lodges of hostile Uncpapas were encamped 
uncomfortably near them, and finding their pres- 
ence undiscovered or unsuspected, discretion and 
good judgment should have aided these two men 
to keep quiet and shady for a day or two at least 
inasmuch as the band were mere travelers and not 
seeking trouble. 



140 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

But these two frontiersman, restless dare-devils, 
had resolved to attack the camp at dark and did 
so. The Indians were panic-stricken at first but 
finding the attacking party were but two, flanked 
them, burned their hard earned cord wood and 
their cabin, and took what grub was in sight and 
the unlucky sortemen had a twenty mile walk for 
their breakfast. 

On the 14th of July of '71, Comrade Mercer 
and myself launched forth in a little tub-like bull 
boat at the Painted Woods landing for a six hun- 
dred and fifty miles journey down the Missouri to 
Yankton, the Territorial capital. Not a whit less 
foolish than the escapade of Kelly and Stub Wil- 
son was this six hundred and fifty mile journey in 
a bull boat through a country where the sight of 
one of these unlucky tubs freighted with man and 
gun was a signal from every Sioux village for a 
call to arms. But a week before our starting a 
war party of six Gros Ventres had floated down 
below the present site of the Standing Rock agen- 
cy and run on a Sioux hunter and killed him. Al- 
most every spring and summer for a hundred 
years the sleallhly manned war crews from the up- 
per villages, descended with the river currant and 
struck betimes the camp; the horse herd; the 
lone hunter; the early bather; the water carrier 
maid— or perchance the gamboling child. 

Was it any reason then, that when two days 
later as we floated grandly by the military para- 
pets of old hi.storic Fort Rice the stars and 



Bull Boatinc; Tiir()U(;ii the Sioux Country. 141 

stripes waving gracefully with the breeze, when 
after a time fort and flag faded from view that we 
began to think that we would not always be thus 
becalmed — that winds would roar overhead and 
angry waves yet lash to fury our frail cra(t? 

We had provided ourselves with Indian leggins 
and red shirts and had every outside appearance 
of a pair of Aricaree braves, but as we drifted into 
the Sioux country we felt less pride and more un- 
easiness at our disguise. 

In a cove near the Standing Rock, we fished out 
one of the war boats abandoned by the last Gros 
Ventre war party. We transferred our luggage 
to the prize and thus were enabled to take more 
comfort. At the Grand river agency we took the 
shore shoot, and unexpectedly came upon a bevy 
of Uncpapa women and our appearace threw them 
into a panic and ran away screaming. It then came 
our turn to be panic stricken, for soon afterward 
about one hundred armed warriors came over the 
bank and several swam out and seized our boats 
pulled them ashore. We were severely repremand- 
ed, but allowed to proceed, on condition of taking 
three dancing maids as passengers down about 
five miles. They had been taking part in a dance 
that day, and were ardstically painted and their 
head dress of green leaves and flowers set them 
off handsomely. 

At the mouth of the Moreau river we tied up 
expecting to call on Belden the White Chief, who 
was supposed to be dividing his time betw^een 



142 Frontier and Indian Life. 

writing his book and courting the Princess Gras^. 
Unfortunately, Belclen was not at home, and before 
we landed, beady black eyes had been peering at 
us from the bushes and our uncouth "Padonee" 
appearance, and our bull boats so terrified them 
that the half breed family ran screaming Indian 
murder up through the brush, not even stopping 
at their houses, but evidently made for the Black- 
foot camp somewhere along the Moreau. 

Concluding it was best to move on, we drifted 
down river to the Swan lake bars and taking a 
narrow shore shoot, were dismayed to see at a 
point ahead of us what appeared to be about 
twenty Indians calmly awaiting our approach. We 
were anticipating something of this kind, believing 
that the scared half breeds at Martin's had alarmed 
Grass's camp, and thinking we were the advance 
of an Aricaree war party, were preparing to round 
us up. Nor was the illusion speedly dispelled as 
we drifted lazily along the sluggish eurrant. One 
of them in our sight made the blanket sig- 
nal to others, by us unseen. But like the waking 
from an unpleasant dream some of the dreaded 
warriors took flight in the air. They were turkey 
buzzards; had been regaling on a carcass, and the 
mirage that often occur at this season on the river 
had magnified them many fold in size. 

In the neighborhood of Devils island we rested 
on a beech on the west side of the river where the 
year previous we had witnessed, if not an unre- 
corded tragedy at least an unraveled mystery. 



Bull Boating Tiir()U(;ii the Sioux Country. 143 

A party of eleven of us was descending die 
river from Fort Buford under deputy marshal 
Galbrath as witnesses before the U. S. court at? 
Yankton on the Reeder murder trial. While at 
the Grand river agency, the marshal was advised 
by the military of the escape of a deserter from 
that garrison taking with him a large white dog. 

We were eating dinner at this bar when we es- 
pied across the river on the ridge of bluffs a man 
and dog answering the discription of the deserter. 
About one mile below, also on the opposite side 
of the river and near a small grove of trees were 
about twenty lodges of Indians. It seemed the In- 
dians espied the man and dog, as four of them 
mounted their ponies, and with glistening rifles 
drawn from their covers started out toward him 
but owing to his high position, hidden from view. 
Four other Indians quickly follow^ed in like man- 
ner. The first four ran up a coulee beyond and 
the last four up a coulee in front of him, but all as 
yet were hidden from his sight. The four behind 
arose first but he espied them and ran only to be 
confronted by the other four, when apparently dis- 
mayed he gave up and was hustled out of our sight 
in a coulee. The marshal refused to allow us to 
go to the man's assistance. Some of the Indians' 
ponies were in sight, unsaddled and grazing, but 
that was all. An hour later we passed on. The 
agency people reported these twenty lodges, "bad 
Indians." The deserter and dog were never again 
heai'd from. 



144 Frontier and Indian Life. 

But to the bull boat journey. Within a few 
miles of the Cheyenne agency, on the east side of 
the river we noticed a large party of red people 
huddled together and evidently engaged in dan- 
cing. We were out in the river and thought to 
slip by unnoticed. But that was not our luck. — 
The dancing stopped and excited appearing In- 
dians gathered along shore and a fusilade of bullets 
whistled about our heads. We hoisted a white 
flag and was called ashore. Our poor boats were 
unmerciful thumped and kicked and the ominious 
words "seechee wah-doc-a," (bad to look at) rang 
in our ears in fullsome warning. Santee Jim of 
the party whom I had previously known, inierce- 
ded to save us from further molestation, but give 
warning that riding in the bull boats meant break- 
ers ahead for us. 

When we came near the Cheyenne agency we 
changed our paddling methods; fixed the boats in 
line, kept the middle of the river, and so avoided 
the lynx eyed Indians of that place. Fort Sully 
we passed in the night, and about midnight land- 
ed at a hay camp on the Okabosia about ten miles 
below the military post. A flickering light at the 
camp had been our beacon for several miles of 
rough and dangerous riding through a boasterous 
sea. We found all asleep, so quieily carried our 
boats up near the hre; turned them bottom side 
up and went to sleep. 

At daylight we were awakened by stamping feet 
and found ourselves and belongings subjects for 



Bull Boating Through the Sioux Country. 145 

inspection, and the inquirers were holding con- 
versation in an undertone. Presently a lank meat 
eating Texan drawled out to us, at the same time 
eyeing suspiciously the war vessles of the fighting 
Aricarees: 

'AVhat is these things — a balloon?" 

We arose from under our skin canopies and 
proceded to explain to the unsophisticated young- 
man and his stareing companions that the vessels 
were of the water not of the air. They could not 
be made to believe that navigation was possible 
in a skin covered basket until we went spinning 
around in the circling currant after launching. 

Our next stopping point was Tompkin's ranch at 
Medicine creek. The proprietor was affable and 
obliging and we do not think he deserved his hard 
luck a year later, viz: the confiscation and burn- 
ing of his property, and can but speak a good 
word for this generous Georgian who gave up his 
life trying to save another from harm. 

From Tompkin's place we hired a rig to take 
us overland to F'ort Thompson, abandoning the 
boats; partly owing to the tediousness of this kind 
of navigation, and partly owing to a false rumor 
reaching the Two Kettle band at Fort Thompson, 
that a war party of their old enemies the Aricarees 
were swooping down upon them in bull boats. 

We camped near that fort the night follow- 
ing; and owing to some one informing the Indians 
that we were the advance of the war party; having 
cached our boats near Tompkin's ranch, a big well 



146 Frontier AND 1^DIAN Life. 

armed party came out to interview ns. A half 
breed questioned adroitly in English and some of 
the warriors catechised us in Sioux. Finally a lit- 
tle old black looking Indian asked us some ques- 
tions in Aricaree and I answered in the same lan- 
guage. That settled it. Twenty warriors armed 
with knife pointed war clubs stamped about us 
while we vainly tried to slumber. Nor was se- 
curity ours until two days later when we crossed 
Choteau creek on the south line of the Yanktons. 

One month later after the events just recorded, 
being the last day of the month of August — as 
passengers on the boat Peninah, we steamed up 
to the landing at Grand river agency about night- 
fall. Charley and John McCarthy, young Sam 
Galpin and one other came aboard as was the cus- 
tom at wood landings. They had just returned 
as pall bearers from the new graveyard where all 
that was mortal of the young and talented George 
P. Belden, had been laid to, rest. Three days be- 
fore the "White Chief" left the agency astride his 
mule bearing silks and fineries for his accept- 
ed bride, the Princess Grass, who resided with her 
father along the banks of the timber-lined Moreau. 
He was followed from the agency by a jealous red 
rival, who watched his opportunity and murdered 
Belden while in the act of drinking from a spring 
on the lonely Moreau trail, twelve miles from the 
rigency. These pall bearers have now, also passed 
away — and two of their graves, will remain to us 
unknown until Gabriel blows his last and final call. 




CHARLEY REYNOLDS. 



LONSSOMS CHARLEY. 

ONE day i<n the early summer of 1870, there 
appeared at the lower Painted Woods, of 
the then Territory of Dakota, a young man about 
tw(^nLy-four years of age, swinging a Sharp's 44 
calibre, 80 grains charge, rifle over his shoulder 
and leading a pony in pack. He unostentiously 
gave his name as Charley Reynolds, and his occu- 
pation that of a professional huntsman. 

This young man was about five feet eight inch- 
es in stature; heavy set and somewhat round- 
shouldered; a pair of keen grey eyes, habituated 
to a restless penetrating look; with rather unso- 
ciable, noncomnumicative* habit. His voice was 
soft in mode of expression — almost feminine — and 
what was very uiuisiial among rovers of the bor- 
der, used no tobrxco in any form; nor was he ever 
s(!en by his companions under the influence of in- 
toxicating drink. Such were the writer's first im- 
pressions on the personal appearance, and first 
acquaintance with this noted frontier wanderer. 

He had passed the previous winter arqund the 
old Grand river agency, and at Gayton's ranch on 
the east bank of the Missouri river, nearly oppos- 
ite the Standing Rock. In the early spring he 
moved up near Fort Rice and while there first 
displayed his remarkable gifts as a hunter that 
made him so much after notoriety along the Up- 
per Missouri country. 



148 Frontier and Indian Life. 

He contracted with the post commissary to supply 
the garrison of Fort Rice with all fresh wild 
meat needed at the post. His fame as a success- 
ful hunter spreading- up the river, the officers of 
Fort Stevenson also requested him to furnish that 
post in like manner. He associated himself with 
Joseph Deitrich, afterward a well known business 
man of North Dakota's capital city. For about 
two years these pre-eminently successful hunters 
made the neutral range between the Sioux and the 
allied tribes around Fort Berthold, their hunting 
grounds. 

It was while hunting in the Painted Woods re- 
gion that "Reynold's luck" became a word of 
whispered familiarity among envious hunters, and 
various studied explanations were indulged in 
by disappointed nimrods who could — many of 
them at least— explain their own disappointment, 
as being game stalkers decidedly out of luck. 

Reynolds intuitive knowledge of the habits of 
wild animals such as the elk, antelope and deer, 
was, indeed marvelous, and could have only 
been gained by a very close study of these animals 
habits. In the writer's presence he would often 
say that he would kill a deer or elk feeding at a 
certain place on a certain kind of herb or vine at 
a certain hour of the day, and would almost in- 
variably return from the hunt with a token of the 
accomplishment of his promise. 

The large amount of game killed by the soli- 
tary rifle of this extraordinary hunter, brought or 



». 



LoNFSOMK Ciiaklp:v. 149 

sent to tht^ military forts became a subject of much 
discussion among the neighboring Indian tribes, 
who to a certain extent depended for food upon 
the very game Reynolds was slaughtering. The 
feeling particularly grew upon the Indians of 
the P^ort Berthold agency, many of whom were 
themselves good hunters, but Reynolds so far 
eclipsed them, that they believed he had as an as- 
sistant some strange supernatural power they term 
in a general way "medicine." 

On one occasion while visiting at the Fort Ber- 
thold Indian agency, he leasurely and unconcern- 
edly look his gun on his shoulder and w^ailked down 
among the willows along the river about one mile 
from the village. In less than an hour he returned 
with the carcasses of two deer. This incident, to 
the wonderinor Indians savored of the same feel- 
ing, to their excited imagination, that the strange 
doings of a Signor Blitz, or VVyman the Wizard 
of the North, had, with their jugglary tricks im- 
pressed intelligent, brain-cultured audiences of 
our own race; the Indians had never seen a deer, 
or track of a deer even, for years past among the 
willows where the magic hunter had brought forth 
these two deer, nor would they believe the thing 
possible until a party of them went to the spot to 
see if such deer made tracts in the sand like other 
deer or w-ere they but ghostly visitations; the pro- 
duct of the sorcerer. 

The climax to the Indian's patience and fore- 
bearanee was finally exhausted in the matter during 



150 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

the winter of 1874, when the hunter Reynolds 
started out from Fort Berthold for an elk hunt 
along the Little Missouri river, taking as compan- 
ion for the trip, Peter Buchaump, the Second, a 
young half breed Aricaree. At the mouth of 
Cherry creek they came upon a herd of eight elk, 
when as was his wont, Reynolds killed them all 
without hardly changing his position. After dress- 
ing them they loaded as much on the wagon as it 
would hold, and then cacheing the balance from 
the depredations of wolves and coyotes, they re- 
turned to the agency. 

Now, Buchaump, was a pretty intelligent half 
breed, and while in many ways as superstitious as 
a full blood, he at times felt disposed to play on 
the Indians' credulity. While knowing these In- 
dians wonderment at Reynolds' strange gifts as a 
hunter, and himself half believing that the hunter 
carried some magic charm, so when gurrulous Pete 
entered the village he had a wonderful story to 
tell to the gaping crowd of interested listeners. — 
He related various strange capers of the White 
Hunter That Never Goes Out For Nothing, — for 
such was the name Reynolds had received from the 
red people of the village. Buchaump detailed 
to the Indians the story of finding of the tracks 
of a band of elk at Little Missouri, and that as 
soon as Reynolds assured himself that the trail 
was fresh, he took from a hidden pocket a black 
bottle and poured out some of the contents along 
the trail and then sat down on a log for an hour 




JOSEPH DEITRICH. 



LoM.soME Charley. 151 

or so when every elk returned in its own tracks 
and Reynolds had nothing further to do but shoot 
and butcher. As might have been expected Bu- 
chaumps story roused the jealous, famine-haunted 
Indians to a pitch of superstitious fury. Reynolds, 
all unconscious of the gathering storm was quietly 
taking his ease at his boarding house — Trader 
Malnorie's place. The veteran trader all at once 
found his premises surrounded by about two hun 
dred Gros Ventres, who, as the elk were killed on 
lands which they laid claim as Gros Ventre terri- 
tory, and consequently the grievance in question 
was their own. Cherry-in-the-mouth, the Kidney, 
and other leadejs of the Gros Ventre soldier band 
led the warriors. Many of the agency employees 
noting the excitement and fearing the outcome, 
had hustled themselves over to Fort Berthold, 
and barred the gates. Malnorie, terribly excited, 
attempted to peacify the yelling mob of reds but 
failed. They demanded that Reynolds give up 
the black bottle — that source of all mischief — the 
cause of rapid decimation of the wild game; or in 
the event of refusal, the alternative was death. — 
Through the intercession of Malnorie and some 
of the chiefs their demands were modified. They 
would give the best mule in camp for that black 
bottle, and again the hunter denied possession. — 
Once more they became angered, and some of 
them drew their knives and made a rush for the 
hunter's team, which was standing hitched near by^ 
with evident intention of cutting the horses throats. 



152 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

Reynolds quickly leveled his g\m at the at the 
formost, sayino^ to Malnorie at the same time: — 
"Tell them the first one touches a horse dies !" 
The aim of the dreaded rifle had its effect, though 
it has been said Cherry-in-the-mouth and Kidney 
pulled Reynolds' mustache in the melee. 

As the Aricarees had remained passive durini^ 
the fracas the hunter made them a free gift of two 
of die elk carcasses, but to the Gros Ventrc^s he 
gave not a pound. The discomfited reds then gave 
out that the would "fix" the hunter on his return 
trip to the cache, and although he started out 
alone, and was followed the entire day at a safe 
distance by eight redoubtable warriors, a glimpse 
of fresh Sioux "sign" saved him from further 
molestation on that trip. 

Charles Reynolds was born in Warren County, 
Illinois, in 1844. His parents w^ere both Iventuck- 
ians, the father. Dr. Reynolds, was a physician of 
extensive practice, and was a man of fine menial 
attainments. The family then consisting of pa- 
rents and seven children, moved to Coles County 
of the same State, in the spring of 1854, where 
Charley remained until he was about sixteen years 
of age, when he left home and made his way to 
Atchison, Kansas, and joined an emigrant outfit- 
ting train for California, but the party being at- 
tacked on 1 ole creek near the forks of the Platte 
river, where several of the party were killed by 
Indians and their slock driven off. This misfor- 



LOM-SOME ClIAKLEV. I 53 

tune necessitated a return clown the trail toward 
Fort Kearne)'. In the meantune young Reynolds 
formed the acquaintance of an old wolfer named 
Green, who had quarters on one of the islands of 
Plane river. One of the boys hrst experience 
with the cranky old fellow, and which did not add 
to his admiration, was on the occasion of a friend- 
1}' \nsit from a band of Skedee or Wolf Pawnees. 
Passing thai way, ihey did not forgo their usual 
custom of calling and asking for something to eat. 
Nor did the old fellow forgo his usual custom of 
appearing pleased at their presence when he was 
not. The genial appearing host ordered young 
Reynolds to manufacture a corn pome and when 
worked to iis proper consistency, the wolfer then 
look the dough, and when not observed by the 
hungry Pawnees seasoned with a full bottle of 
strychnine poLson and then put to bake in the 
"dutch" oven. After the brea.d was cooked it was 
spread before the red guests, who ate of it cheerily 
and heardly, and when the repast was finished, 
they all arose, shook hands with their intertainers 
and departed. The old chap's ignoranee alone 
preventing a cowardly and uncalled for murder of 
several friendly Indians. The heat in the oven, 
of course, neutralizing the poisonous effect of the 

drue. 

Some time after this affair they pulled freight 
and moved out to the Middle Park, Colorado, 
where the wolfer's apprentice was treated to an- 
other su.rprise. While out hunting one day they 



154 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

came to where an Indian woman — presumedly a 
White river Ute — was buried in a tree top. The 
old reprobate shook her down on the ground and 
set a line of wolf traps about the corpse. This 
incident was more than the boy could well stand 
and thinking that perhaps during another shortage 
of wolf bait, might find his own body in demand, 
he took his traps and with a morning twilight lined 
the direction of Fort Laramie, thence down the 
Platte river to the towns on the Missouri. 

At the breaking out of the war young Reynolds 
enlisted in the i6th Kansas — a noted regiment, 
and served in the first three years of the war in 
the various campaigns in which his regiment was 
engaged along the southwestern border. The 
greater part of this time the young soldier was de- 
tailed on scouting service. 

In the autumn of 1865, in company with a man 
named Wamsley, Reynolds started out on a tra- 
ding trip to the plains in southwestern Kansas. — 
At some place on Rabbits Ear creek, near the old 
Smoky Hill overland trail, they were jumped by a 
band of southern Cheyennes. In the fight that 
followed, Wamsley was killed and the wagon and 
goods captured. Reynolds saved himself by a de- 
termined resistance from an old abandoned wolf- 
ers dug-out until night set in, when with the help 
of intense darkness he crawled past the cordon of 
watchers, and taking a westernly direclion made 
his way to Trinidad, thence down to Santa Fee. 
New M(^xico's capital city. 



Lonesome Charley. 155 

While wintering at Santa Pee, he fell in love 
with and marri^^d a Mexican girl. But after a sea- 
son of wedded bliss, the terror of all dreamy 
young married men when favored with one — the 
ever critical mother-in law — who guards her daugh- 
ter's destiny with the same solicitude and care 
within the humble walls of a Mexican Greaser's 
adobe ranch, as well as in the stately homes of the 
fair Aryan. The old lady harried the young man 
for his want of thrift, and his matrimonial pros- 
pects had such an uncertain outlook, that he bid 
farewell to wife, mother-in-law, and the prolific 
land of Spanish half breeds, and made his way 
back across the plains. 

The autumn of 1866, found Reynolds hunting 
buffalo on the upper branches of the Republican 
river. The country about the Republican river, 
being also the favorite hunting grounds of many 
of the tribes of the plains pardculary those hostile 
to white occupation of the country, and conse- 
quently after several "close calls," he concluded 
the profits would not justify the risk and exposure 
incident to such lonely camp life, so he crossed 
over to the noted Jack Morrow's ranch on Platte 
river. Here he remained for the winter, but in 
the spring he had some trouble with an officer of 
the neighboring post, Fort MePherson, which end- 
ed in a shooting scrap, the military man losing an 
arm. 

In the summer of 1S72, an expedition left Fort 
Rice on the Missouri, to protect the North Pacific 



T56 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

railroad surveyors in running their line along the 
Yellowstone valley. Reynolds accompanied the 
expedition as scout and hunter. Two English 
nobleman also accompanied the expedition to see 
something of wild Indians and buffalo. They saw 
plenty of both, and when out to the furthermost 
limit of the summer's survey, General Stanley 
detailed Reynolds to accompany and guide the 
Enelish bloods throuQ^h the Yellowstone National 
Park, and thence to Boseman, Montana. Rey- 
nolds acquitted himself in a creditable and satis- 
factory manner, and was very favorably mentioned 
by them in their book, which they published on 
their return to England. 

In the early summer of 1874, General Custer 
received permission from the Government to lead 
an expedition to the Black Hills of Dakota, and 
selected Reynolds as his chief scout and guide of 
the expedition. This was the most important mil- 
itary reconnossance into the Sioux country yet 
undertaken. 

After Custer and his men had entered the Hills 
and gold was foumd, it became necessary to com- 
municate the important news swiftly to the world. 
While the Indians had not attacked the soldiers, 
it was known they were very watchful and wait- 
ing a favorable opportunity to strike a blow at a. 
body of invading trespassers that threatened such, 
consequences to the future of the Sioux nadon. 

As the General wished to send the dispatch at 
once, yet knowing the great danger attending the 



Lonesome Charley. 157 

carryino of it, he wished vokinteers, rather than 
be compelled to detail any one on what he him- 
self believed was to almost certain death. After 
the miners had made their report, the General 
stepped out in front of the command and asked 
who amoncr them would volunteer to carry the 
dispatch to Fort Laramie ? As no one among 
them seemed in a hurry to answer, Reynolds, who 
was sitting on a log near by said in his quiet way: 

''General, I will go !" 

"No, Charley," replied Custer, ''I can hardly 
ask you to go." 

"Give me the dispatch," Reynolds said in his 
firm quiet way, "and I will carry it to Ft. Laramie. 

Seeing he had decided to go the General offered 
to detail some scouts or soldiers to accompany 
him, but the intrepid scout refused any company 
and after being furnished the best horse in the 
command for the journey, he waited around camp 
until dark, when with the guidance of the over- 
hanging stars he commenced his pathless and per- 
ilous journey of nearly two hundred miles through 
a country of vigilant and unsparing foes. 

After an all nights hard ride he drew into a 
deep coulee, unsaddled his horse and rested un- 
til nightfall before resuming his ride. It seemed 
he had been resting near a camp of Sioux or 
Cheyennes, because on starting out in the even- 
ing he passed two parties but "played Indian" so 
successfully, his identity was not discovered. 

Toward the peep of day on the second nip-ht 



158 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

he rode up Laramie's ^ates, and very soon diere- 
after the civilized world was informed by electrical 
bolts that gold was found among the Black Hills, 
''even to the grass roots" and with that dispatch 
came the evening's lengthing shadow that marked 
the closing: of wild Indian life on the orgeat north- 
western plains. 

An incident happened in the winter of 1874-5 
which owing to its shaping of after events is well 
worth noting. This was Reynold's part in the 
detecdon of Rain-in-the Face, and his subsequent 
capture by Captain Tom Custer, and imprison- 
ment at Fort Abraham Lincoln. 

General Custer's expedition of 1873, to protect 
the Northern Pacific railroad surveyors, which 
Reynolds had also accompanied as scout and hunt- 
er, was harrassed along their line of march by 
Sioux war parties, and on one occasion two non- 
combattants were killed while being temporarily 
separated from the command. They were Dr. 
Holzenger, the veterinary surgeon, and Mr. Bal- 
ran, the suder of the 7th U. S. cavalry. They 
were elderly gendeman of scientific tastes, and 
were searching for fossils, in which the country 
abounded. Just before being attacked, Reynolds, 
had met them and warned both of them that he 
had discovered fresh signs of Indians around 
in that vicinity, and advised them to return to the 
command at once. They delayed, so lost their 
lives. 

During the early part of the winter following. 




RAIN-IN-THE-FAOE— Uncapapa Sioux CWef . 



LoM-soME Charley. 159 

Reynolds was sent down by General Custer, on 
a spying trip; and in attending one of the war 
dances, learned from some educated half breeds 
also present, that young Rain-in-the-Face, brother 
of an Uncpapa chief was boasting of killing with 
his own hands, the two civilians of Custer's expe- 
dition. On learning further pardculars, he sent 
word to General Custer who at once ordered Cap- 
tain Tom Custer with a squadron of cavalry to 
arrest the red braggart and bring him to Fort Lin- 
con. Rain-in-the-F^ace, after some trouble was 
apprehended and taken up to the Fort and con- 
fined in the guard house until he escaped in April, 
1875, when he. made his way to the hostile camps 
alone the Yelloivs.tone river. 

In the springX>f i§75» our hero acted as chief 
scout for the protecUpn. pf the first steamboat that 
ever ascended! tlie Yellowstone river any distance. 
This was the finevstern-.wheeler, josephene, of the 
Coulson line, under command of Captain Grant 
Marsh, one of the most skilful pilots as well as 
popular captains that strode the upper deck dur- 
ing the days of steamboat supremacy along the 
Missouri. The boat ascended the stream as 
high up as the mouth of Big Horn river where a 
large camp of Crow Indians were met with. Rey- 
nolds had three assistants, one of them being the 
noted borderman, George Grennell. The whole 
command was under Col. Forsythe, of General 
Sheridan's staff. This military reconnoissance by 
land and water was eminently successful judging 
by the events that immediately followed. 



t6o Frontier and Indian Life. 

During the winter of 1875-6, Reynolds was sent 
by General Custer to watch the movements of the 
Mandans, Gros Ventres and Aricarees, and par- 
ticularly to keep an eye on the going and coming 
of Sioux spies from the hostile camps along the 
Yellowstone and the Big Horn mountain country. 

Early in the spring of 1876, General Custer 
tendered Reynolds the position of chief guide for 
the contemplated expedition to the upper branches 
of the Yellowstone. The object of this expedi- 
tion was plainly set forth by the Secretary of the 
Interior which was to compel all Indians to move 
upon reservations set apart for them. Through 
Reynolds influence with Custer, the writer of 
these sketches was tendered the position of assis- 
tant guide and Reynolds visited the Turtle Valley 
Ranch where I was then stopping. Holding some 
regard for the just rights of the Indians in the 
premises, and fearing a repetition of Chivington's 
work at Sand creek, or of Baker's butchery of the 
Piegan small pox victims in Montana; or that of 
the General himself in the destruction of Black 
Kettle's camp of southern Cheyennes, the flatter- 
ing offer was respectfully declined. 

In this interview at Turtle valley — which so far 
as we two were concerned was destined to be our 
last — he said while Custer and his officers were of 
the opinion, basing it upon the attitude of these 
Indians during the invasion of their hunting 
grounds about the Black Hills and the various 
taunting military reconnoissances made from time 



LONF.SOMK ClIAKLKV. l6l 

to time in the Sioux country, that these refractory 
Sioux under Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse would 
not make much disturbance or resistance when 
confronted by the military power. 

Reynolds seemed of a different opinion. He 
had been making observations, he said, and he' 
believed the Sioux would fight, and fight hard. 
He had noticed them quietly preparing for a long 
time — supplying themselves with plenty of amu- 
nition and the best of Winchester rifles, and every 
move they were making meant fight, and while he 
did not believe the Sioux had the dashing courage 
of a Cheyenne or the stubborness of a Modoc, 
3^et there was fight in them, and they would show 
it at the proper time. They expected to fight and 
he thought that summer would witness the great- 
est Indian battle ever fought upon this continent. 

The event of June 25th, of that year marked 
the chief guide's prophecy as being nearly correct. 

While General Custer had been makinor some 

o 

preparation for nearly a year for this expedition, 
and very active preparations since the month of 
January, a break occurred between President Grant 
and the General over other matters, and the Pres- 
ident carried his resentment so far as to have this 
eminently qualified officer superseded in command 
by General Terry commanding the Department. 

The programme or purposes of the expedidon 
remained the same, viz: the forcible removal of all 
Indians upon their reservations or upon reserva- 
tions to be assigned them. About three thou- 



t62 Frontier and Ijndtan Life. 

sand Sioux and Cheyennes living along the Yel- 
lowstone river and its upper tributaries would be 
effected by this order of the Interior and War De- 
partment. To make resistance to removal seem 
helpless to the Indians, three separate military ex- 
peditions were started from different quarters and 
all to converge in the neighborhood of the so- 
called hostile camps. General Crook commenced 
the march early in the spring from Wyoming, and 
General Gibbon with another army were marchino^ 
down from Fort Ellis, Montana. 

General Terry left Fort Abraham Lincoln, in 
May, for his line of march following up Heart, 
river, thence over and along the Yellowstone until 
the hostile camps were met with. The command 
numbered about three thousand soldiers, nearly 
one third being mounted. The yih cavalry under 
General Custer took the advance and with him 
went the chief guide Reynolds, Girard and the 
principal part of the Aricaree scouts. 

Custer and his regiment kept steadily in the 
lead of the main command until the 25th oi June 
when the first signs of Indians were discovered. 
The cavalry leader then divided his command into* 
four parts with the intension of surprising the In- 
dian village and cut of any hope of escape by the 
inmates. No attention or thought was given to* 
the number the village might contain. Custer did 
not expect they would stand up for a fight, hence 
the trivial matter about the number of savages 
would be of no consequence to him. 



Lonesome Charley. i6 



In the order of this cavdry divison, Custer 
headed five companies, and three companies was 
placed in charge of Major 'Reno and three com- 
panies under Captain Benteen, and one company 
and the pack train under Captain McDougal 
formed a reserve. When the cavalry commands 
separated the Indian village was not yet in sight. 
Benteen deployed to the left front, and Reno and 
Custer divided to strike the camp from different 
quarters, each to support one another in certain 
emergencies very likely to happen. 

With Custer rode three citizens — his brother 
Boston, young Reed a nephew, and Editor Kel- 
log, the expedition correspondent of the New 
York Herald and Bismarck Tribune. But Rey- 
nolds,'Girard, the Jackson boys. Bloody Knife, 
Bob Tailed Bull and the major part of the Arica- 
ree scouts accompanied Reno. 

In order to portray the situation of Reno's com- 
mand in this thrilling encounter, we have his state- 
ment that at half-past twelve o'clock he received 
a dispatch from Custer, who was then two miles 
in advance, to move to the front as rapidly as 
possible, "as the Indians were running away." 

Reno says in his report of the acUon that day, 
that his orders were to "move forward at as rapid 
a gait as prudent, to charge afterwards, and the 
whoh^ outfit would support me." He rode at a 
fast trot for two miles, crossed the Little Big Horn 
river at a ford, halted ten minutes to gather his 
batallion, and moved on down the valley with his 



164 Frontier AND In DT AN Life. 

men in line of battle. • The small number of In- 
dians who appeared, fled before him for two miles 
and a half, making scarcely any resistance. 

"I soon saw," says Reno, ''that I was being 
drawn in some trap, as they certainly would fight 
harder, especially as we were nearing their village, 
which was still standing; besides I could not see 
Custer or any other support, and at the same 
time the very earth seemed to grow Indians, and 
they were running taward me in swarms, and from 
all directions. I saw I must defend myself, and 
give up the attack mounted. This I did taking 
possession of a point of woods, which, furnished 
near its edge a shelter for the horses; dismounted 
and fought them on foot, making headway on 
through the wood. I soon found myself in near 
vicinity of the village; saw that I was fighting odds 
of at least five to one, and that my only hope was 
to get out of the wood, where I would soon have 
been surrounded, and gain some higher ground. 
I accomplished this by mounting and charging the 
Indians between me and the bluff, with the loss of 
three officers and twenty-nine enlisted men killed, 
and seven wounded." 

It in was the earlier part of this hard fighting 
that Reynolds went dbwn to his death. While at 
the edge ot the timber spoken off, and when the 
Indians were making a flankino- assault widi tJie 
evident intention of cutting Reno's command in 
two parts, Reynold's — true to his character — uii- 
mindful of his own danger when others were in 



Lonesome Charley. 165 

peril, said to Dr. Porter, who was standing at the 
ex]gG of the timber, dressed in a linen duster and 
consequently a conspicuous target for the Indians: 

''Look out Doctor, the Indians are shooting at 
you !" 

These were Reynolds' last words as far as 
known. A few minutes later, in attempting to re- 
join his retreating companions, having vainly tried 
to check the ferocious savage onslaught, his horse 
went down under the leaden shower pinning its 
intrepid rider to the earth, and then he fell an 
easy victim though not without first emptying his 
revolver at his advancing foes. 

His last words of warning to Dr. Porter proba- 
bly proved a godsend" to the wounded soldiers on 
the battle field, as the Doctor was at that critical 
time the only surviving surgeon there, the other 
two being already killed. 

When General Terry's troops took possession 
of the field several days after the battle, the head- 
less trunk of Reynolds was found; it lay near 
where he fell. His bones were afterward re- 
interred by a professor of the Ann Arbor Univer- 
sity, near the site of that Michigan college. This 
scholarly friend had made Reynolds acquaintance 
on the Black Hills expedition of 1874, and we be- 
lieve was the one who first bestowed upon him 
the sobriquet "Lonesome Charley." 

Such is a short summary of the career of a re- 
markable frontierman. As a devoted student, and 
admirer of the botanist and the naturalist, he was 



i66 Frontier AND I^■DTAN Life. 

in correspondence with some of the professors of 
our leading universities; he was oftimes their 
guide and companion in the search for the curious 
and rare specimens to be found among the bad 
lands of the Little Missouri river. While his 
earlier military career is a subject for contradictory 
opinions,* the reputation of his closing career is of 
the best — a brave and reliable scout — a guide of 
sagacity and precision; as a hunter standing with- 
out a peer in the wild west; and as a manly man, 
a prince among his fellows. 

*In the summer of 1864, when the cause of the Con- 
federacy was reeling to its final fall, some of its 
tardy friends in Colorado, thought their lime had 
come to show their hands and assist in some way 
to revive hope in ultimate success in the triumph of 
the stars and bars. Among these were three miners 
by the name of Reynolds— all brothers, who con- 
trived the scheme of a successful insurrection in 
the mountains of Colorado, as a diversion strictly in 
sympathy with the Southern cause. 

The beautiful valley of the upper Arkansas was 
the chosen field— amid as wild and pictuesque scen- 
ery as where John Brown tried his similar plan — 
though in another cause — among the misty vales of 
the romantic Shenandoah. The numbers of the in- 
surgents were identical in each instance, and their 
fate was nearly the same, though a show of justice 
at least, marked the treatment of the Virginians to 
John Brown— a murder most foul recorded the shoot- 
ing of the manacled, untried prisoners in the rear 
of the Four Mile House near Denver. The ^scene 
at Harper's Ferry marked the beginning of the civil 
war; the Denver scene, neor the end. The two elder 
of the Reynolds' brothers died thus; the third a 
mere boy, reprieved, and whom it is now asserted 
by many, was our hero, "Lonesome Charley." 



SDITOR KELLOaa. 

THE haymakers of the Upper Missouri, in the 
year 1874, had an embarrassing time. It 
was one of those dry rainless summers that come 
but too frequently in that country. The hay con- 
tractors for the military posts put in their bids 
early, made no calculation for a drouth and con- 
sequent shortage of the hay crop — so, failed. 
Stoyall, a noted Bismarck barrister, closed up his 
law books, took up a pitchfork and proceeded to 
fill a delinquent contract for Fort Abraham Lin- 
coln. He succeeded as good lawyers generally 
do when figuring is an assistance. 

In order to secure hay worth the cutting, it be- 
came necessary to go some distance from the post. 
The lawyer betook himself to the succulent gras- 
ses of the Painted Woods, and organized his camp 
and pitched his tents on the bottoms south of the 
Painted Woods Lake. 

The writer, then pursuing a hunter's life, was 
game provider for the haying camp, supplying 
it daily with fresh killed elk, deer and antelope, 
that had fattened among the wild pea vines of the 
woodland or on the sweet and tender green grass 
of the adjoining plain. 

Northward of the hayfield was a dense forest 
of large cottonwoods. and in the centre of the 



1 68 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

timber nestled a little lake of crystal water, 
eternally shaded by a canopy of overhanging 
branches, and the stagnant weed bed held its 
surface motionless from the disturbed airy elements 
that surged without, but never ruffled its placid 
bosom. All around and about this lake of the 
woods were great sand dunes, the compilation, 
perhaps, of centuries of fitful sand laden wdnd 
storms. 

The whole of this heavy forest had been inclu- 
ded in a large island in Lewis and Clark's day, 
and is described in the published journal of these 
explorers as ''New Mandan Island." The Painted 
Woods Lake of to-day, being at that time a part 
of the river Missouri's watery bed. 

In summer days when the cottonwood giants 
are in full leaf, the place w^ears an umbrageous 
gloom. One morning at daybreak, while trailing 
a wounded doe through a particularly dreary part 
of the woods, I come upon the fleshless skeleton 
of a large man. The hair of the head alone re- 
mained intact, which enabled me to recognize the 
remains as those of a harmless wanderer, known 
along the Upper Missouri, as Freneh Joe. He 
became frequently deranged through excessive 
use of bad whiskey and sorrowing thoughts, and 
in -the last instance o( this kind, had disappeared 
from a newly located ranch bordering the military 
trail, about two months before, and up to the date 
of my stumbling on his remains, his last disap- 
pearance had been a mystery. 



Editor Kellogg. 169 

The deer's blood spattered trail was at once 
abandoned and I returned to the hay camp and 
reported my ghastly find. In the absence of a cor- 
oner, and being a qualified Justice with a jurisdic- 
tion covering a great stretch of this thinly peopled 
region, — I at once summoned a kind of informal 
jury. While busy with this business, a new fore- 
man of the hay camp was announced, he having 
just came up from Bismarck. It proved to be M. 
M. Kellogg — Editor Kellogg, a casual acquain- 
tance of an earlier day. While publishing the 
Dakota Democrat at Yankton, during the Grant 
and Seymour presidential campaign of 1868, I met 
KellogQ^ as a co-laborer in the same cause, he be- 
ing at that time on the editorial force of the Daily 
Democrat, of Council Bluffs, Iowa. 

When Mr. Kellooor ^as informed of the finding 
of the corpse, he kindly agreed to accompany us, 
and assist at the inquest and burial. After the 
id(Mitification of the remains had been settled up- 
on as those of the unfortunate Frenchman, the 
Editor proceeded to deliver a temperance talk 
that under the circumstances; the time and the 
place, made an enduring imprint upon the minds 
and hearts of his few but attentive listeners. 

The gentleman began by informing us that one 
day in Bismarck, some months since he saw the 
deceased reeling through the streets of that town, 
in a drunken or rather an insane condition, when 
he causuly learned something of his early history 
from one who knew him well. He was born and 



I/O P^ RO N TIER A N D I N 1 ) T A N Ll FE . 

raised near the city ot St. Louis, and belonged to 
one of the old French creole families there. He 
inherited a fine farm near the city and married an 
accomplished lady in the neighborhood, who in 
time bore him a son, and every prospect of a hap- 
py and prosperous future open out before them. 
Tippling around the saloons on every visit to the 
city, became in time a habit with him, which was 
habitually taken advantage of by the saloon's 
hangers-on, and with the tricky methods of cipher- 
ing up in such cases, and where balance sheets are 
a superfluity, huge bills of indebtedness were 
piled up against his property in various ways, so 
that it was but a matter of a few years when the 
sheriff's hammer closed the beginning of a harrow- 
ing scene. The family became homeless. Well, to 
span the details, the wife found an early grave, 
followed soon after by her neglected child. When 
the besotted, unhappy man found his all, forever 
lost to him, boarded an up river bound boat, appar- 
ently to seek the furthermost depths of an un- 
friendly and inhospitable land. For ten years he 
had drifted from place to place, at times hardly con- 
scious of his existance at all. "This is a hard end,'* 
said Kellogg in conclusion; and looking down for 
a moment upon the skeleton, and then turning his 
eyes around upon the gloomy woodlands about 
him, ''I hope and pray that my end — and our ends 
may be different, that we can hope at least for 
good christian burial." 



Editor KELLooCr. 172 

Poor Kellogg- ! The book of fate well hid from 
him the leaf that bore in character his pre-destined 
end. How little he knew — how little we all know 
what the future has in store for us. 

Once more to June 25th, 1876; once more to 
Custer's unlucky field; once more to carnage and 
death. The tide of battle is turning against the 
charging batallions of the 7th cavalry. Down to 
the dust amidst tramping and snorUng steeds, 
goes the advance guard with their brave leaders — 
Crittenden and Calhoun. Following them and 
pressed on all sides fights the matchless soldier 
Keogh and his desperate troopers, who stand like 
human ten pins and fall — all of them. Now, to 
the right centre surges the impetuous Tom Cus- 
ter with his loyal squadron who are cut down 
as with a sythe in quick death. On, and on, comes 
the red painted Sioux horde with the fiery fury of 
hell's Satanic legions. But steadily in advance of 
them to pit against a common foe, come the north- 
ern and southern Cheyennes. Are the vcatching 
ghosts of the murdered ifour hundred mothers and 
babes of Sand creek, hovering around about them 
urging them forward like Mahomet's protecting 
angels on Beder's bloody plains ? Or, are their 
arms of iron and their hearts of stone, now, that 
before them are officers and men who stained the 
winter snows of the Washita red with the blood 
of the unprotected and helpless of their own 
people — of Black Kettle's murdered band. 



1 7 3 FrON '1- 1 E R A N D I N I ) IAN L T FE . 

The last group but one. is fighting on yon sharp 
point of hill. It is General Custer himself and 
the last cotere of his officers and several of his 
men. Blanched faces were now peering out in 
the shadowy realms of death that soon claimed 
them all; and of all the hundred heroic soldiers 
that lay stretched^about the banks of the Little 
Big Horn in their shells of cold inanimate clay, 
two corpse alone pass through the hands of the 
vengeful victors without mutilation by knife, tom- 
ahawk, bludgeon or axe — Custer and Editor Kel- 
logg — the savages' last tribute to the bravest of 
brave men. 



INDIAN MOTHERS. 

THOSE of our readers whose cunosty or duty 
have led them to visit an Indian village or 
community, cannot have failed to notice with what 
gentle demeanor the children behave themselves 
in the treatment of their parent's wishes, and the 
civil decorum and unaffected deportment they 
exhibit in the presence of strangers. Yet the 
rod is never a part of the dicipline for children m 
an Indian household. 

The male child is especially exempt from cor- 
poral punishment of any kind, the parents be- 
lieving in the hallowed traditions of their fathers 
and mothers before them, that the chastisement of 
a male child for minor offences breaks down his 
spirit and unfits him for a future warrior or leader 

of men. 

In observations of wild Indian life, 1 have noted 
that much the same causes for conjugal infelicity 
prevails among the savage as with civilized races 
of people; that the young Adonis does not al- 
ways marry his first love, or his second love as 
the case may be; and that accidental alliances or 
' those for equality of rank do not always turn out 
(or the best. But, come what may a home of 
happiness or a home of misery, the Indian female 
as a rule, obeys the insuncts of true motherhood. 



i74 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

Her child's confidence is won by her motherly 
care and devotion, and its studied obedience to 
her will by an unselfish maternal love. 

Fort Abraham Linr.oln was constructed in the 
summer of 1872. It was first laid out and built 
on a high bluff, opposite what was originaly 
known as the Otter tail ford, and since the Sibley 
expedition of 1863, known more generally as the 
Santee crossing, which is about one mile below 
where Heart river joins waters with the Missouri. 

The fort site was on the mouldering ruins of 
an old village of the extinct Anahaways, and had 
a splendid view of the surrounding lapds. From 
this commanding height the country about radically 
varies its appearances with the changing seasons. 
In winter the vast stretch of landscape broug^ht to 
easy optical view, is dreary enough, but in the 
season of green prairies; green leaf covered 
trees and open river waters the prospect is grand. 

A few miles southeast of the fort on the river 
is the heavy timbered Sibley island, so named as 
an obscure tribute to the memory of a true and 
merciful soldier whose fame and acts will live in 
human hearts more for the charity of his deeds, 
rather than those of a combative and sanguinary 
man. Beyond this island and to the south of it are 
the high ridges of Little Heart river, and fur- 
ther on the uneven but showy bluffs of the Calumet 
cones are seen that mark the site of old Fort 
Rice. 



Lmhan Mothers. 175 

To the west of the new fort over abrupt and 
uneven hills that mark the lines of the sinuous 
Hart, and to the north rising high above the plain, 
stands the lone White Buffalo butte, and beyond 
them to the right the showy Square Buttes, while 
facing the fort to the east beyond the Missouri, 
spreads out the fertile valley of Apple creek, and 
the adjoining rough, grassy uplands. 

F'ort Lincoln thus to view, had originally been 
christened F'ort McKean, in honor of a brave 
Pennsylvania officer who fell on one of the battle 
fields of the civil war. The original purpose of 
the post had been to quarter the troops employed 
in protecdng from hosdle Indian raids the line of 
the Northern Pacific Railroad. 

When General Guster and his 7th cavalry came 
up from the Indian Territory, in 1873, he made his 
cavalry barracks about three quarters of a mile 
south, and direcdy under the bluffs of the then 
re-christianed fort, which, owing to its growing im- 
portance as a headquarters post, had been given 
the name of the martyred President. From ''cav- 
alry quarters" the gradations were easy to "Fort 
Lincoln under the hill." A few years later on 
"Fort Lincoln on the hill," was abandoned and 
the post that still bears that honored name, rests 
quietly on the low bench land beside the great 
river, where often in the near past, the morning's 
bugle call had awakened from peaceful slumbers, 
for the duties of the day. so many of those who 
afterward found the last bed in their eternal sleep 



176 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

around and amoncr the broken butles ot die 
Litde Big Horn. 

But it is of Fort McKean or "Lincoln on the 
hill," during its construction period that L write. 
The Sioux had as yet shown no pardcular hostility 
in the country bordering on the Heart river, with- 
in the limits of the Northern Pacific railroad, un- 
til Interpreter Girard had been ordered up to Fort 
Berthold, to enlist and bring down some thirty 
Aricaree braves to do scouting service around the 
new post. This was done the latter part of May, 
1872. This act was to Sioux comprehension a 
virtual declaration of war on the part of the com- 
mandment and the garrison, the Sioux and Aric- 
arees being still at open war. 

Two of these Aricaree scouts were killed while 
escorting the mail to Fort Rice, being waylaid in 
a coulee near Little Heart river. 

As the season advanced and the grass grew 
green for their ponies' feed, the Sioux became 
bolder and finally made a partial investment of 
the fort, and every few days the officers and sol- 
diers standing within safe quarters behind the 
ramparts, would witness in open view, gladiatorial 
contests between the Aricaree and. the Sioux, that 
would have gladdened the stony heart and excited 
the dormant nerves of the old Roman in the days 
long past, of savage combats widiin the walls of 
the gory-famed Collosseum of the Eternal city. 

On one of these occasions the Sioux warriors 

de up aln,os.t widiin stone throw of the wooden 



r( 



Indian Mothers. 177 

walls of the fort, and shot down an old Aricaree. 
A son of the old man seeing his father fall, made 
a rush toward him, saying as he ran: "Over my 
father's dead body, I die !" The Sioux made the 
boy's word good. He fell across his father's 
corpse filled with bullets and arrows. 

The outcome of these many hostile encounters 
between the beligerent red men was, that when 
the Aricarees were discharged in November, ot 
that year, they left nearly one third of their num- 
ber behind them, the victims of Sioux aggressive- 
ness, persistence and murderous ferocity. 

One stormy day in December, several weeks 
after the discharge of the balance of the scouts 
from Fort Abraham Lincoln they came saunt^ing 
through the timber trail to my Painted Woods 
stockade. They had been traveling leasurly along 
the freshly, but solidly frozen river, hunting the 
elk, deer and bear, along the timber bends. 

While in camp near the Square Buttes, they 
had observed sign of their Sioux enemies, so de- 
parted in haste for my place for besides the little 
loop-holed fort being an emergency rendesvous, 
the situation of the pomt itself was favorably lo- 
cated for a successful defense from the assault of 
an overpowering enemy. 

Among the party was a middle aged woman. 
She was one of the newly made widows, her hus- 
band having died bravely in front of Fort Abra- 
ham Lincoln. She was cook for the party, while 



178 ' Frontier and Indian Life. 

her son, a boy of perhaps fifteen summers, was 
acting as one of the horse guards. 

During their stay at the stockade, the mother 
was continually uneasy lest they had been fol- 
lowed up by the Sioux, who in an unexpected 
moment would pounce upon their horses and her 
boy, whose duty led him out on the watch, and 
might fall as her husband had fallen and leave 
her utterly alone. 

When relieved temporarily from duty, to rest 
and eat his ever ready and carefully prepared 
meals — the boy's return to the camp in safety 
would be moments of joy to the tender hearted 
woman; her eyes would sparkle and glisten, a re- 
flection as it were, from the mirror of a happy 
heart. • A mother s careful eye watched his every 
movement and a mother's love was continually 
finding endearing expressions and would articulate 
softly in her feminine way. 

"I love my boy dearly" she would say, as in- 
terpreted from her native Aricaree — "he is so 
good and so kind to me, always." Her actions 
were so noticeable at the time that this incident 
of the campers remained strangely and strongly 
impressed in my memory after these many years. 

Sometime during the spring of 1874, the Sioux 
made one of their last hostile raids against the 
allied tribes in the villag^e at Fort Berthold. A 
war party of three hundred rame in sight on the 
west side of the Missouri, opposite^ the village. 



Indian Mothers. 179 

and signalled their defiance to the Aricarees and 
their Mandan and Gros Ventre friends, and bid 
them in taunting insults to come and meet death. 
They did not banter in vain. In a few minutes 
the mud-mixed waters of the river's surface in 
front of the village was covered with numbers of 
tub shaped bull boats; the sturdy women deftly 
paddling against the currant as they faced its ed- 
dies and swirls, while the warriors enconsed in the 
boat's bottom, held their guns in one hand and with 
the other firmly grasped their chargers' lariat, 
while the noble beasts plunged and snorted wildly 
as if that gave additional propelling power to 
reach solid ground. 

Amidst all this excited throng, there was one 
calm voice. It was in the little bull boat of a 
woman and a youthful warrior — the cook and her 
young son of the Fort Lincoln scouts of 1872. 
She was encouraging him in the same endearing 
terms — ever dear to her and to him. She bade 
him be a good true soldier and avenge the death 
of his father. Upon reaching the hostile shore 
the boy sprang nimbly from the boat, mounted his 
dripping war horse and was soon lost to his 
mother's sight and found himself amidst his encir- 
cling foes. 

In a few hours the Sioux were driven from the 
plain and bluff and scattered like frightened quail 
far away, until the shadows of the night covered 
their trails. 

The victors — less five— returned to their boats 



i8o Frontier AND Indian Life. 

at dusk. The bodies of four of them had been 
found by their friends, but the fifth, the widow's 
boy, could nowhere be seen. He had been noticed 
fighting among his enemies, but it was all that was 
known of him. The victors with loud shouts and 
songs recrossed the river, the widow alone remain- 
ing to keep silent vigil for her lost boy. 

Now listening for approaching footsteps — now 
hearing the vigorous thumping of the drums and 
the loud shrill cries that accompanies the war 
song of the victors at the village, as wafted across 
the water in the sull air of the night. To her 
they were sounds of mingled joy and sadness. 
Where was her boy? Every strange sound 
brought her hope — every silence wrecked it. 
When morning eame with its streaks of gray 
dawn, the poor wretched mother stood watching 
in shivering silence by her little round boat on the 
brink of the mist-hidden river. 

Xinie — that balm which so often soothes the 
heart of the weary laden, brought no comfort to 
this Indian mother. The traditions of savage life 
had taught her that there was a dreaded possibil- 
ity for her son of the fate of a scalpless warrior — 
a life bordering between the living and the dead. 
To be among the living and yet remain unseen. 
Of all the cruel fates that an Indian fears, the hor- 
rors of a scalpless w?.rrior's spreads out its black- 
est pall. 

It, by thai mysterious law that custom had en- 
forced for ages, that sight from each other must 



Indian Mothers. iSi 

be forever hid, she would do all that was left for 
a mother to do; she would bring him clothes for 
his back, and moccasins for his feet; she would 
brincr him his food, and lio-ht for his fire. 

Day after day and as month succeeded month 
this Indian woman could be seen leaving- the 
Ao-ency at Fort Berthold with a little bundle on 
her back, walk down to the river bank, take her 
dried skin boat, ferry herself over the river, and 
then wind her way over the high chain of bluffs 
to where her boy was last seen alive by his friends, 
and depost her bundle on a rising mound and 
silently return by the same route. 

When winter came, no storm was too boisterous, 
no cold too severe, or no snow so deep that could 
prevent her making the accustomed journey to the 
high divide. That nothing but the unmistakable 
sign of the raven, the magpi and the wolf, as they 
picked and prowled among her careful stores, 
seemed never for a moment to discourage her. 
Long after the melting of the snows in the spring 
time, the little heap of comforts lay untouched, 
apparently — save by the beasts and the birds. 

In the month of May, 1875, General Custer, 
then in command of Fort Abraham Lincoln, de- 
termined to stop hostilities between the Sioux and 
the Aricarees. To this end he invited a general 
coimcil of these of Indians at the fort. They 
came. The Sioux all splendidly armed and 
mounted; the Aricarees, though poorer, looking 



i82 Frontier AND Indian Life. 

their best. The lonely widow had finally been 
persuaded by her friends to accompany them to 
learn from the Sioux some certainty as to the 
whereabouts of her boy. 

There was an old custom among these wild 
tribes of the plains, and to some extent is still 
a lingering relic with the less advanced ones, that 
when the warring nations make overtures for 
peace, and assemble in the interests of its con- 
sumation, they first flaunt in each others faces, 
vicious reminders of the bloody past. If they 
then subdue their ruffled tempers, and dissemble 
their hates, they are ready to shake the hand of 
amity and forgiveness. 

At this meeting of the belligerents, Son of the 
Stars, the wise and able chief of the Aricarees, 
told his followers to ''bear the insults that they 
may shower upon us that the end may be peace. 
The Sioux may send our hearts to the ground, oh, 
my people, but nerve yourselves for their taunts, 
and bear them bravely and well." 

These two tribes that had been warring be-times 
for over a century of years came again together 
as during intervals in their strife in the past; to 
sue, to forgive and to forget — to shake the friend- 
ly hand and to smoke in peace the fragrant calu- 
met. 

The showy and vaunting Sioux, as was expect- 
ed, came flaunting up in savage gorgeousness, 
with the trophies of former wars proudly tied and 
bore aloft upon their coo sticks. Among their 



Lndian Mo'iuKRs. 183 

array ot dried scalp locks laken from thcnr en(uiiies' 
heads, was one — a lono- olistenintr braid — a fe:\v 
ring's and Deads, widi bits of faded cloth tied 
about dieni. 

"Oh, my boy, my poor boy !" came in hurried 
words or rather screams from the Hps of the Ar- 
icaree woman. The poor creature had recognized 
this last display as the familiar trinkets; the scalp 
lock and the blood smeared garments of her son; 
and unable to bear more, uttered a piercing 
shriek and fell to the ground. Her sorrowing 
heart had burst in twain. 

^\lA^^ years after the first settlement at the 
Missouri river crossing of the Northern Pacific 
railroad, more particularly during the time that 
Ariraree scouts were being employed at Fort 
Abraham Lincoln, small gangs or parties of this 
tribe were frequently passing and re-passing along 
the Fort Stevenson and Bismarck trail for the 
purposes o{ barter and trade with the wide awake 
merchants of the growing town by the crossing. 

Owing to previous acquaintance, and to some 
knowledge of the Pawnee tongue, of which many 
of the Aricarees were also familliar, these red 
travelers made s. regular rule of way camping at 
the timber point to which I had made claim. The 
chief of this tribe had asked as a special re- 
quest that 1 permit such of his people who came 
that way to rest themselves in camp there. Some 
of the white settlers along the trail had regarded 



,184 Frontier and Indian Life. 

these wandering reds as intruders, and their mere 
presence as intrusive, and it was the wish of this 
fair minded Indian chief, that he would guard 
against the least semblance of a pretext for un- 
pleasant thoughts between his people and the 
aggressive strangers. 

Among these casual campers at Preparation 
point was a tall Aricaree called Walkingbull, wife 
and child. In all my dealings with him. he sus- 
tained his record of past life, as an upright, hon- 
est Indian, and passed his days quiedy. His wife, 
younger in years, was cheerful and kind hearted 
in her primitive way. A little girl with painted 
cheeks, bundled up in her beady, buckskin robe 
completed the personal of the family. 

Known by name as Pawnee Talker, among this 
tribe, I found that Mrs. Walkingbull, also laid 
kinship to one of the Platte river bands and de- 
lighted to discourse in the Pawnee tongue. In 
this way a friendship began with the Walkingbull 
household that continued unbroken along the 
line of passing seasons. 

About 1882, after an absence of nearly iwo 
years, Mrs. Walkingbull came into camp wiih 
a party of friends. She had much to say. Her 
good old husband, ailing these many years had 
been quietly laid at rest. His tall form would 
never again be seen bending over the familiar 
camp fire. Her little prading daughter had been 
given over to the missionaries care, to be taught 
the ways of white people and be educated. 



Indian Mothers. 185 

Two more years glided by, and again die 
Widow Walkinebull came to revisit the old scenes 
of her earher davs. She had good news to tell. 
Her daughter had been sent to a school in the far 
east and would come to her some day a fine lady. 
The intervenine time to herself would be lone, 
and the absence of her child, trying in its lone- 
liness. But to know that she would return to her 
some day, decked out in fine dresses and bearing 
herself in ladylike, mannerly ways, encouraged 
her through the ordeal. She remembered the 
slighis put upon herself and daughter by the 
dressy fair haired girls as they promenaded the 
streets of the town by the railroad, who sneered 
at herself and child for their grotesque garb and 
unconventional ways. And now when her girl re- 
turned from her stay in sunrise land, she would 
mingle with her fair haired Aryan sisters with all 
the grace they themselves possessed. Then in 
the exuberance of her joy as the fanciful shad- 
ows of thf^ imagination flitted gaily by, the widow 
exacted a promise that when her girl did return 
I come up to the Aricaree village and behold 
the transformation — to see the little greasy-faced 
smoke perfumed Indian girl decked out in her 
silken finery, rich laces and plumed hat. 

At last after an absence of many years — it 
being then the summer of 1889, I found it conve- 
nient to take a drive to Fort Berthold. I was 
preparing for a far eastern trip to be gone a num- 
ber of years and had come up for a final look at 



i86 Frontier and Indian Lti f.. 

the old village and say i^ood bye for the last time 
to many of its inmates. Naturally enoiio-h I en- 
quired for the Widow Walkingbull's residence*, 
and was shown a little dwelling surrounded by ar- 
tificial arbors and a neat white pailing inclosed it 
nicely. The widow, I thought, anticipating her 
daughter's return endeavored to fix up her place 
so that when she arrived the young lady need not 
be ashamed of her mother or her home. 

Mrs. Walkingbull met me at the gate. She 
made no demonstration but asked that I follow 
her. In a darkened room I was led to where on a 
bed lay an amaciated girl breathing in short gasps, 
evidently in the last stages of pulmonary con- 
sumption. The eye of the mother scanned my 
face steadily. She seemed in one minute recalling 
all the hopes and dreams of years. Choking sobs 
filled her throat as she pointed to the suffering 
form and said faintly: *'See ! My daughter has 
come home."-^ 

A flickering flash — a ptissing- shadow; 
An inanimate form — a bed of clay. 
The twilight dirge ; an Indian mother 
Craving the light for a better way. 



SOME INCIDENTS OF INDIAN WARFARE. 

THE merciless and indiscriminate slaughter of 
the innocent and helpless whom the fortunes 
of war have placed in the power of the victor, is 
one of the darkest and most indefensible traits of 
character of the principal tribes of the American 
Aborigines. From the day that Christopher Col- 
umbus and his little band of Spanish adventurers 
landed on the strands of historic San Salvador, in 
October, 1492, until within a very few years ago, 
Indian warfare as conducted between belligerent 
tribes of the red race, have been a continual war 
of extermination. 

Residing so many years within the territory 
claimed and occupied by some of the most warlike 
of these nations, many incidents of the ferocious 
nature of the wild warrior came under my obser- 
vation and knowledge during that period, and of 
some acts even in the midst of die excitement of 
battle there were the glimmering of chivalrous 
deeds. Then again there were acts perpretrated in 
the name of war that sadden our hearts with the 
memory of the poor victims of maniacal mad- 
ness thouph their once breathino- forms have lono- 
since commingled widi earthy dust. In spite 
of our efforts of controlling will to h ide the 
horrors of many of diese fiendish acts in the pan- 



1 88 Frontier and Indian I.ikk. 

arama of savage life from memory, yet they recur 
again and again in the whirl of thought and will 
remain the actual in spite of all effort to treat them 
as passing dreams. It is of some of these casual 
incidents of Indian warfare that came within my 
observation or of personal aquaintance with the 
actors that I will proceed to narrate : 

One of the oldest of the four traders trying to 
do business in that line at Fort Berthold in 1869, 
was lefferson Smith, a resident of the Indian 
country for over fifty years. He had been born 
and spent his boyhood in New Orleans but from 
early manhood had experienced no change from 
the hazardous existence incidental to a frontiers- 
man's life. He was one of the tree trapper's 
in the Crow country in 183 1-3, so romantically 
described by Irving in his adventures of Captain 
Bonneville. After living among the Crows for a 
number of years Smith joined a partv of Minne 
tarees or Gros Ventres who were originally a part 
of the Crow nadon. He married among the 
Gros Ventres, became a camp trader, and pros- 
pered for awhile, but some bad parinerlships and 
rascally clerks brought him to the verge of ruin 
in which condition the writer found him in the 
spring of 1869, during a few weeks sojourn with 
the venerable trader pending^ the probating events 
of my "tenderfoot" period. Besides being very 
poor the old man, then nearing seventy years ot 
acre, was almost totally blind; the sight of one 
eye gone enUrely and the other nearly so. 



Some Incidents of Indian Warfare. 189 

In this condition, Trader Smith made a trip to 
F'ort Stevenson during the closing days of that 
year. He was accompanied by his son John then 
a twelve year old lad, and a Gros Ventre "bur- 
dashe." After loading up with a good jag of 
bacon and other supplies obtained from the com- 
missary of the military post, the trio started 
out on their homeward way on the second day of 
the new year, and concluded to follow the river 
trail as offering the inducement of a shorter route 
and consequent saving of time over the regular 
traveled military road. When nearing the bad 
lands that raise their disordered columns interme- 
dia*:e of the two forts, the burdashe noticed some 
Indians in their rear riding hard apparently with 
the idea of overtaking the wagon party. On 
nearer approach the terrified burdashe discovered 
the approaching horsemen were Sioux, so ran 
from the wagon toward a willow thicket some 
distance ahead. The Sioux gave chase, caught 
killed and scalped him and threw his body oh a 
drift pile, where in company with a party, I found 
the remains three months later, unburied and about 
as the Sioux had left it after mutilation. 

In the meantime a p^irt of the Sioux started 
after the occupants of the wagon, surrounded the 
the team and commenced to unhitch them and at 
the same time ordering the occcupants to the 
ground. The boy was terrified into speechless- 
ness after witnessing the fate of the burdashe 
and knowing the character of Indian warfare, he 
could expect only immediate death. 



iQO Frontier vnd L\dtan Life. 

"I am old, and blind, as you can see," said the 
stricken old man to his captors in their own Sioux 
language, ''take my team, take my provisions: 
take my life and my scalp, but spare my little 
son." 

'*r3o the Gros Ventre warriors spare our child- 
ren ?" asked a Sioux, at the same time making 
ready to shoot the boy, while others were unharnes- 
ingthe mules or filchiiig eatables from the wagon. 

"Stay!" exclaimed an old Sioux who came up 
just then, for nearly fifty grim warriors had gath- 
ered about. "Stay," repeated the Sioux veteran 
and the uplifted gun was lowered, and busy hands 
were quieted. The appearance of the speaker 
seemed to command their respect, and his tone of 
voice riveted attention. 

He then told them that over twenty years 
before a party of Blackfoot Sioux, himself among 
the number were encamped on the lower Yellow- 
sto-ne, when an ice gorge suddenly overwhelmed 
their camp from effects of meldng snow. All 
they could do was to save their lives, and some 
were drowned. Horses, teepes, guns and bedding 
were covered under a mountain of ice. "We 
were hundreds of miles from our people," went 
on the speaker, "with enemies all about us. \Mth 
guns, arrows, robe's and horses we would not have 
cared. But without them we were afraid. Near 
the Missouri's big bend we sneaked into the Gros 
Ventres' winter camp. We were entertained 
sulkily and half suspected all of us would be killed. 



SdMK Inctdknts of Indian Wakkark. 191 

A white trader amongst them, that kind hearted 
old hlind man now before you, took us to his store 
gave us robes, gave us blankets, and even loaned 
us guns. When the Gros Ventres saw^ this act 
of the white trader, they became ashamed and 
then turned in and helped us also, and we made 
our way to the Blackfoot camp on the Moreau." 

It is but justice to add. that the mules and pro- 
visions were restored; the boy and his blind 
father helped in the wagon, and told to ''go," while 
the Sioux warriors moved rapidly forward to the 
last hostile mid-winter raid ever made against the 
old Indian village at F"ort Berthold. 

About the middle of the month of May, .1872 
having an errand to perform, 1 saddled up a favor- 
ite steed and rode up along the river to Fort Ber- 
thold. On the morning following my arrival at 
the Agency, the inhabitants of the Indian village 
were starded from their slumbers at early dawn 
by the rapid firing o( guns and successive war 
whoops. It was in this way a mounted war party 
of thirty-five Gros Ventres and Mandans signalled 
their return from a successful war raid. 

The party had been absent ten days. In their 
outward journey they trailed along the headwaters 
of Turtle, Painted Woods, Burnt, Apple and Bea- 
ver creeks. While carefully scouring along this 
latter stream th(^ war party espied two lodges ia 
which people were noticed stirring about, l^he 
inmates were Yanktoney Sioux. They were out 



192 Frontier ^knd Indian Life. 

from the main camp near Grand river and were 
enjoying a spring hunt after antelopes, ducks and 
geese, with which that stream and valley abound- 
ed. The two teepes contained five persons 
when sighted by the war party. In one teepe a 
woman and child, in the other a woman and two 
boys. Early that morning a party of white men 
coming from Grand river agency, and bound for 
the new railroad town at the Missouri river cross- 
ing, had passed that way, and the ponies belong- 
ing to the inmates of the two lodges had strayed 
after them. The two Indians missing their stock, 
and not dreaming of any particular danger left 
their families to trail up and bring back the es-- 
trays. 

This was the situation when the thirty-five Man- 
dan and Gros Ventre warriors rode down on a 
gallop with frighful yells and surrounded the two 
lodges. The woman and children, stupified with 
fear crouched within doors. The two boys were 
first dragged out, killed and scalped. The young- 
er of the two woman was next dragged out and 
outraged and butchered. Her child clinging to 
her was taken away by an old Mandan with the 
intention of taking it home to his village and 
adopting it, but its cries exasperating''sorae of the 
younger members of the party, it was taken from 
him and the child brained against a huge stone. 

The mother of the two boys, alone surviving, 
was ordered by some one in authority to cook up 
provisions enough to (^eA the entire party. It is 



SoMK LvciDI-xTS OK LxDlAN WaKFARE. I Q :> 

almost impossible to conceive the. dreadful 
thoughts that must have been in the mind of this 
poor creature at this time while m.v.king the en- 
forced banquet to her own and her childrens' des- 
troyers, for, no sooner was the feast ended a tom- 
ahawk was sunk in her brain and her scalp cut 
and torn from her head. 

Such were the particulars of the Beaver creek 
raid, as told by the participants on their return. A 
war dance was at once arranged by the party and 
the streaming scalp locks of the unfortunate vic- 
tims were exhibited by the vaunting dancers in 
their black faced masks. The blood smeared tro- 
phies were carried aloft on poles, and placed in 
the centre of a ring around which members of the 
war party kicked and chaunted, surrounded by 
interested groups of both sexes, old and young. 

The day following, as was custom, the scalps 
were thrown to the elderly dames who paraded in 
bands before the various stores, and the homes of 
the white residents, with a dancing and singing- 
bout by turns in front of them. As w^as also cus- 
tom, these traders who had lived on the patronage 
of Indians were now expected to set before their 
guests, well filled pots of cooked meats and ket- 
tles brimming over with good hot coffee. Thus 
passed day succeeding the arrival of the raid- 
ers. First one group of dancers then another 
tossed the scalp locks of the murdered women 
and children of Beaver creek. Now dragging 
them along the ground — now holding them up to 



94 



Frontier \nd Indian Life. 



taunts and Insults of the motlev crowd that jeered 
and hooted through the dusty streets of this 
Indian town. 

About two months after the massacre of the 
two Sioux famihes at Beaver creek, the writer, who 
was then erecdngsome claim cabins in Point Prep- 
aration, Painted Woods, my attendon was arrested 
by the sounds of Indian war songs, gradually ap- 
proaching through the by-paths in the timber. 

It proved to be an Aricaree war party of seven 
led by a brave who had heretofore enjoyed the 
reputation of being the best hunter and most suc- 
cessful warrior among his tribe. His painted robe 
marked the record of achievements in war raids, 
and in single-handed contests with cinnamon bears 
that were proud history for the Aricarees, — that 
one among their number could do such wonders 
that must terrify their enemies by his boldness. 

The Indian leader after a few moments rest re- 
mounted his pony and was followed by a compan- 
ion, bearing aloft on a pole a fresh scalp lock of 
long flowing hair. The balance of the party re- 
mained seated and one of them told a tale of en- 
counter, in" which they bore off in triumph this 
bleeding scalp lock of the hated Sioux. F'or my 
practical sympathy^ in their cause and a substantial 
recognition of their prowess, they demanded a 
feast of venison, bread and coffee, as in the good 
old days of Indian supremacy along the Missouri. 

About one week after this incident of the war 




JAMES D. CAVTOX. 



SoMi-: Incidknts oi' Indian Wakfakk. 195 

party, the true story of the scalp lock and the 
victim of this Aricaree band. The tragedy took 
place near Gayton's ranch, located at that time 
on the east bank of the Missouri, not far from 
the present boundary line between North and 
South Dakota. 

Andrew Marsh, who resided with Ranchman 
Gayton told a pitying- account of the fate of his 
young- Sioux wife, a girl of about fifteen years of 
age. The two were out walking some distance 
from the ranch when they saw seven Indians 
all mounted, leisurely coming through the bot- 
toms from the north. The girl trained from child- 
hood to close observation of surrounding objects, 
quickly noticed that the Indians were not of her 
own people, and looking up appealingly to her 
husband's face in a trembline voice said : 
"O, they are Aricarees ! They wiW kill me." 
As Marsh was unarmed, and although trying to 
reasure the girl, but while doing so, they moved 
rapidly toward the ranch which they had hoped to 
reach before being overtaken. But the Aricarees 
— for such they proved to be — andcipated this 
move by riding on a run, veering in a half circle, 
and placed themselves in front of the fugitives. 
The girl could no longer speak, but clung to her 
husband's arm; an Indian rode up behind, shot 
her down, while two or three of the others 
jumped from their ponies, cut and tore the long 
flowing locks from the girl's head, while she was 
yet in her dying gasps. Mr. Marsh was not 



196 Frontier xxd Indian Lii k 

harmed, but was told if he needed another wife to 
come up to Fort Berthold and they would hunt 
him up a maid from among the Aricarees. 

But the member's of this Indian war party 
were made to feel, that this kind of business was 
not to a warrior's credit. Bob Tailed Bull, before 
this affair had been made much of by white 
acquaintences, was now shunned by them and 
he felt the slights keenly. He went out with Cus- 
ter on his last expedition and rode bravely to his 
death on the Little Big Horn. The balance of 
the party have long since passed from among the 
living; the most of them like their leader met vio- 
lent, tragic ends. 

Nearly two months psissed away before In- 
dians from any tribe was to be seen around the 
Painted Woods. One day, by accident, I noticed 
two red men following along up stream under the 
cut bank on the opposite side of the river. From 
their manner of traveling, it was plain they were 
trying to escape observ^ation. 

Two or three weeks later, in company wi:h Joe 
Blanchard and Little Dan, vv^e made camp at the 
Painted Woods Lake, and spread out a trap line 
around that great game resort. One evening 
while there encamped, we were joined by "Scotty" 
Richmond, the Forts Rice and Stevenson mail 
carrier, when a high old time was had aroimd a 
big blazing fire until after midnight. At the first 
break of day, w^e arose and each trapper took his 



Some Incidents of Indian Warfare. 197 

separate line and the mail carrier resumed his 
lonesome journey. The rule of the camp was, 
the first trapper from his line cooked breakfast, 
and being- the first to return on that morning, I 
was chagrined and surprised to find that our 
limited supply of coffee and bacon had disappeared, 
yet no object could be seen; though the verest 
bit of a red rag and the soft impression of a moc- 
asin in the frost suggested a gruesome warrior 
somewhere about. When the other trappers re- 
turned, a further search was made and somebody 
had been laying in a clump of bushes near camp 
and from appearances had been in hiding there 
for several hours. 

A replinishment of our "grub" being now a 
necessity, 1 rode down to Preparation for a fresh 
supply. While passing along the broken hills be- 
fore entering the timber in which the stockade was 
located, i noticed Jim Andrews, who had been left 
in charge of the stockade, crouching behind 
a huge boulder. He rejoiced at my arrival, 
and proceeded to tell about the antics of two 
Sioux "who had the timber on me," as he tersely 
expressed it. They were at the edge of the bush 
and in hiding, but shouted for him to come to 
them. 1 hey were hungry they said and wanted 
him Lo take them to the house and furnish some 
food. Andrews was proficient in the Sioux lan- 
guage, and understood them well. He feared a 
trap and was on the defensive, as I found him. 

On my appearance the Sioux moved oft' slowly 



198 Frontier and Lndtan Life. 

throiiorh the brush, and about the same time we 
heard a great noise around the stockade, so push- 
ing through the timber, found a bull boat war 
party of eighty Aricarees in full possession. I 
cautioned Andrews to say nothing about the two 
Sioux, and at once proceeded to fill out the usual 
war party contribution in provision, besides further 
cheering them with a present of two eagle tails. 
After drying their boats for awhile, the whole 
party re-embarked and floated slowly down the 
stream until the bending of the river shut them 
from our view. What were the feelings, mean- 
time, of the Sioux, I never knew. Such an oppor- 
tunity to get two scalps, that was lost through my 
neglecdng to tell them at that time — and I was 
frequently reminded after by members of that Ar- 
icaree war party, — so rceived a good many anath- 
amas for my false fealty to the tribe. But when I 
was informed after that these two Sioux were re- 
turning from an unsuccessful raid on F'ort Ber- 
thold, and that they did us no more harm than 
to take a little provision from our camp, though 
their opportunity was greater; and furthermore 
when I learned that these same two Sioux were 
the husbands and fathers of the victims of the 
Beaver creek raid, my conscience never smote nie 
as yet, for savino; their lives at Point Preparation. 



WITH A GR02 YENTR3 WAR PARTY. 

ONE of the peculiar methods of the Mandans, 
Gros Ventres and Aricaree Indians, making 
war upon the confederated Sioux bands that Hved 
to the south of them was by descending the Mis- 
souri river, cautiously in a f^eet of bull boats, and 
when nearing their enemies habitations, abandon 
their boats, make the attack, and depend upon 
darkness or the thick brush patches of the timber 
bends to protect them on their homeward retreat. 
The bull boat to the wild red denizens of the 
Upper Missouri, answer the same purpose as 
that of the canoe to their brothers around the wilds 
of the Upper Mississippi or the great northern 
lakes. The boats were formerly made from the 
tough hide of a buffalo bull, stretched green over 
willow frame and shaped out like a tub, The hair 
side of the skin is turned out to better protect the 
vessel from snags. An ordinary bull boat will 
seat from tw^o to five persons. The propelling 
power is a broad paddle with a short handle held 
firmly by the two hands, and at each sink of the 
paddle the person drawing toward themselves. In 
this way rivers with swift currants are almost as 
easily ferried over and with as little exertion, as 
with a row boat nor skiff, or do they lose much 
headwa}' by the force of the moving water. 



200 Frontier and Lndian Like. 

In the preparations for a raid by river th'e oldest 
boats artt selected, as they must be sunk or aban- 
doned to the enemy at the end of their journey. 
The danger of navigaUng in a rotten hide cockel 
shell ot a boat does not enter a red marine's head 
although the voyaging into the enemies country is 
most always done in the night. 

In October, 1871, "Trapper" Williams, accom- 
panid by the writer, came up to Fort Berthold, 
purchased a bull boat, provisions, &c., proposing 
to "sign" hunt for beaver, along the Missouri and 
tributary streams as far down as Fort Rice. 

We drifted out of sight of the picturesque fort 
at the Indian village in fine style one day, lazily es- 
consed on blanket seaXs in our tub-like craft, now 
and then spinning around like a top, from the force 
of a sportive breeze as it played about us in fitful 
gusts. But as usual it kept the centre of the 
channel and moored along swiftly, — now and 
again bumping against obstructions as the channel 
rubbed a cut bank or turned along the main shore. 

After drifung along several hours in this man- 
ner, we reached a place known some time after as 
Chris Weaver's Point, from the fact that this wood- 
yard proprietor was here killed by a medicine band 
of Aricarees. We concluded to encamp for din- 
ner there, and while busy gathering faggots for to 
make a hre, we were dismayed and somewhat 
alarmed at the merging into view of about twenty 
bull boats well freighted with Indians, paddling 
rapidly toward us, singing and yelling in great 




DAX Wir^TJAMS, Wardex N"orth Dakota Penitentiary 



With a Guos Ventre War Party. 201 

i^lee, apparently. /\lthoiigh we kept among the 
bushes hid from their observation, when they came 
opposite to us they espied our unfortunate give- 
away, the Httle bull boat, and we were soon sur- 
sounded by a war party of about forty Gros 
Ventres. 

The pipe carrier or chief of the party was 
known to us as "The-man-that-hunts-his-enemy." 
He came forward with the air and demeanor of a 
military dignitary, and recogizing from Trapper 
Williams' bearing and from the mystic emblems 
with which he was adorned that he must be "head 
man" of the firm, advanced toward him and with 
gracious mein, warmly shook him by the hand. 

The Gros Ventre leader now plainly told us 
that they were going to war against the Sioux, 
and turning to the writer at this juncture, the chief 
said as interpreted from th(i Sioux language : 

"You talk Sioux. You may be at heart a 
Sioux. But if not, and you are a friend to the 
Gros Ventres, you will accompany us, — if you do 
not we will take you." 

The deer hunters sent out by the chief on their 
first arrival at camp returned in about an hour 
carrying two deer, when a great feast was pre- 
pared with ceremonies as austere as those conven- 
tional affairs among the Washington dcplomats at 
their state dinners. Trapper Williams "sate" at 
the chief's right, while the reporter of the occasion 
seated himself at the chief's left side. Crow 
Flies High, a warrior of prominence and repre- 



202 FroXTIKR and 1.M)I.\N l.Il-'K. 

sentative of the "Buonaparte" faction of the Gros 
Ventres, and afterwards chief of these indepen- 
dents who refused for many years to conform to 
treaties and conditions they had no hand at shape- 
ing — was at this spread, and a distinguished shar- 
er in attention from the chief, and given a prom- 
inent position at the martial feast. Loquatious- 
ness ruled during the passage of plates . The 
''taciturn savage" that we read of is no relative of 
the Gros Ventres, especially during dinner hours. 

After the feast a pipe well filled with kinnekinik 
was lighted and a ceremonious smoke at passing 
the pipe was pardcipated by all i^n a circle in which 
Man-that-hunts-his-enemy was the principal hgure 
as its honored carrier. The smoke over, the Trap- 
per and I, after a eareful canvass of the situa.rion, 
concluded to join the Gros V^entres through at 
least a part of the Sioux countr3^ and "take chan- 
ces" on the final outcome, 

We passed Fort Stevenson without being dis- 
covered or interfered with by the military at that 
post, — passed along under the bluffs at the moudi 
of Snake creek at sundown; catching, as we drift- 
ed along the wild fury of a cyclonic storm in the 
midst of which, for self preservation, to save the 
swamping and sinking of our frail vessels wen^ 
forced to handlock the entire flotilla, making a 
large raft — an invaluable protection to the cut 
waves of the short bends or curves of the chan- 
nel in mid stream, in bad storms. 

We cooked supper at the Red Lake, long since 



With a Gros Ventre War Partv. 203 

a part of the main channel of the wide Missouri. 
A beautiful body of clear water; a marginal rim 
of wavy willows and tall young cottonwoods mir- 
roring their stately forms on the surface of the 
becamed lake, marked the spot where an evening 
of hilarious mirth and gastronomic feasting was 
had by these wild warriors. A deep flowing 
stream; fitful gusts of sand is now the imprint 
that time has wrought. The upland plain; the 
red seamed buttes alone mark the outline — a 
spoiled picture in a pretty frame. 

When it become dark we made preparatious to 
re-embark, for traveling by night and hiding by 
day would be the established rule, so the chief in- 
formed us, as we entered the Sioux country. The 
stillness of the night was broken by some yelping 
coyotes, after which the good humored Gros Ven- 
tres took up the refrain with thumping of tin 
pan drums and singing in a hiah pitch the peculiar 
tribel songs, confused and silenced even these nosy 
beasts. When nearing the Tough Timber a bright 
camp fire reflected upon the water from the bank 
but when the voices of the songsters reached the 
tribulated ears of the camper, the fire was ex- 
tingished in such a hurry that a general meri- 
ment went" up from the boats at the camper's ex- 
pense. We afterward learned that the camper 
was Lonesome Charley, and it was not so much 
his fear of danger as his dread of a multitude of 
uninvited, undesirable guests, that caused him to 
"douce the glim" with such alacrity. 



204 Frontier and Indian Life. 

After passing the hunter's camp we drifted out 
into the wide sluggish waters near the mouth of 
Knife river. Near dayhght the singing ceased 
and the drowsy men of war lay snoring in the 
bottoms of their frail hulls unconscious of danger 
from pointed snag or frowning sawyer. Our own 
boat had drifted on a sand bar in the middle of 
the river, and we awoke to feel the chilliness of 
the early morning air, and hnd that our late joyful 
comrades in arms were scattered along many 
miles of misty surface, each separate boat having 
drifted hither and thither at the caprice of the 
currant and sport of the breeze. 

Just as the sun was rising, we drifted under 
the sharp bluffs that mark the ruins of old Fort 
Clark, a place sacred and sad to the memory of 
the Mandans. In rounding the point at the mouth 
of the creek that empies into the river below the 
old village, we espied our whilom commander, 
and carrier of the pipe. He had landed from his 
boat and was perched upon a large beaver house 
leaning over with one ear pressed against the 
roof of the thrifty animals' plastered domicile, as if 
intently listening. So occupied was his mind that 
we passed by unnoticed, although only a few 
vards away. In about an half hour later, he came 
paddling up to us. He was blandly smiling and 
in high good humor. In answer to the question 
about his position on the beaver house, the chief 
rephed navely that he was "listening to the beaver 
talk," a remark that set the writer on a new train 



With a Gros Ventre War Partv. 205 

of thought, that led to some Interesting observa- 
tions on the habits of the beaver family. At this 
time the Gros Ventre gave proof of his practical 
knowledge of the habits of these animals by ex- 
hibiting a large beaver cascass over which, he said, 
we would discuss at breakfast. 

About an hour after sunrise we pulled up our 
boats on the strand opposite Lake Mandan. While 
placing the vessels ashore for drying and harden- 
ing, the bushes parted above us, and lo, a painted 
stranger stepped out. His presence though a sur- 
prise to Williams and myself, did not seem to 
mystify the Gros Ventres. The stranger beckon- 
ed partner and myself to follow him which led to 
a dense thicket, and there stood two dirt covered 
lodges with three or four squalid inmates. We 
were strangers no longer. The man before us 
was Partisan, an Indian politician and an exiled 
pretender to the chieftainship of the Aricarees. 

No Roman senator ever poised more haughtily 

no high church prelate more circumspect than 
this fallen brave and chief. He was a man with- 
out a country and almost without a tribe. The 
heriditary chief of the Wanderers, a large Aric- 
aree band when Lewis and Clark came up the 
river in 1804, but closed out wath the small pox 
in 1842. Aricarees proper, ignored his authority. 

'Why do you go war with these bad men?" 
asked the exiled chief thoughtfully, referring to 
our gay companions in arms under thr. river bank. 
''They go down the river in boats to stir up the 



2o6 Frontier \nd Indian Life. 

Sioux who in their turn come up here and hunt 
for the scalps for such as I. Go back, Gros Ven- 
tres, go back !'* exclaimed the excited Aricaree. 

After a good feast from the Partisan's stores — 
for he was generous to prodigality — we of the war 
party put our boats in the water and sailed down 
to the Counted Woods, where we stopped to kill 
some antelope, thence drifted several miles further 
down the river and went into camp. 

The Gros Ventres military decipline became 

more stringent as we invaded the enemy's country; 

they came in contact with the frontiersman's well 

known independent notions. Thus having in view 

the time honored couplet, — 

"He who fights and runs away. 
Will live to fight another day;" 

concluded at this juncture to divide honors with 
our warlike friends, so separated each party to 
pursue their own course of action. 

It was nearly two weeks after our separation, 
when one day while paddling our bull boat around 
Painted Woods lake we glanced toward the 
prairie to see a large party ot Indians heading 
for our camp. They were our Gros Ventre ex- 
comrades returning from war. They came back 
empty handed, save a pair of extra Government 
mules. Chief Gall had a large force of his men 
on Heart river but were too watchful to be caught 
in detail and the Gros Ventres did not dare to give 
battle to such a large camp of Sioux. We gave 
them a royal feast, and thus closed the last bull 
boat war raid made by Gros Ventres against their 
old enemies. 




I.ONG FHATIIKR, thf. rr.ACKMAKF.R. 



THE PEACEMAKERS. 

WHILE the American Indians are a warlike 
race, our knowledge of whatever tribe 
of these people where fortune has favored the 
writer a personal acquaintance of individual mem- 
bers, or an intimate general knowledge of the 
the tribe as a whole, the merciful and divine mis- 
sion of the unselfish peacemaker is respected 
even among the most turbulent and boisterous 
of the fighting element. And in the hours of 
quiet tribel peace, the peacemaker is sought for 
advice on everything effecting the common weal 
of the tribe. Thus it is we often see so many 
kindly and benevolent looking faces among the 
chiefs of the red Indian tribes. During some 
great calamity of war, or moving crisis where 
war is the only solution, the war chief forges him- 
self to the front by the necessity of the hour, but 
unless he has some marked judicial qualities, his 
:tay in the charmed circle of emmirience is brief. 
The Sioux or Dakota Indians, the most numer- 
ous as well as the ablest governed of the North 
American wild tribes, and a warlike people, — fully 
sustain us. — as a review (jf their past history or a 
glance at the personnal of their chieftains at the 
present time will show. The ablest warrior that the 
LSioux have yet proctuced, as far as any record we 



208 r^kON'lIKK AND ImhaN LiKF. 

have of that nations' history, was probai3ly the 
Teton chic^f, Crazy Horse, whose unchallenged 
boast that he slew tliirty-four enemies with his 
own hand before he entered upon and planned 
resistence to the lorces of Generals Crook, Gib- 
bon and Terry in i<-'76, that ended in the slaii.<;h- 
ter of Custer's command at the Little Big Horn. 
Though acknowledo^ed their greatest war chief 
his assassination a short time after the surrender 
of the Sioux, and the little grief or affection 
shown by his people over his death, proved that 
he had no claim on their hearts beyond a meagre 
gratitude and some admiration for his prowess in 
war. Pawnee Killer, of the western Brules and 
White Antelope the chief of the northern Chey- 
ennes in 1876, were ol the order of Crazy Horse 
and ended their career much like him. But ju- 
dicial brained chiefs of same order of Red Cloud or 
Spotted Tail, of the Tetons, or Strike-the-Ree, 
Two Bears and Medicine Bear of the Yanktons, 
Red Stone of the South Assinaboines or Stand- 
ing Buffalo of the Santees or old Chief Grass of 
the Blackfoot Sioux w^ho governed their tribes for 
a life time, and whose principal trouble during all 
their years were in restraining the military ardor 
of their young men, which plainly show that lead- 
ers peacefully disposed wear longer in the affec- 
tion, even among these people, than does the tur- 
bulent blood hunter be he ever so able. 

Other tribes less known follow the same lines. 
Son of the Star chief of the Aricarees was another 




CHIEF roSEPII. 



The Peacemakers 209 

example of the peacemaker as chi?.f, and we be- 
lieve no leader of any people was more idolized 
while living or whose memory is more revered 
since death than was he by the little band of Arica- 
ree farmers around Six Mile creek or the coulee of 
Four Bears. Then, too, let us review the remark- 
able career of the second Joseph chief of the Nez 
Perces or Pierced Noses. A lifetime at peace, with 
no military training, and not until every effort 
consistant with true manhood to avoid it, did he 
take up arms and then at the end of barely four 
months after conducting one of the most wonder- 
derful campaigns in history considering the num- 
bers engaged, he delivered his gun to his con- 
querer among the foothills of the Bear Paw moun- 
tains, with the remark: 'T>om where the sun 
now stands I will fight no more forever." And 
he is keeping his word through all provocation. 
In the many years that the writer followed the 
hunters and trappers' life along the Upper Missou- 
ri, it was always a cheerful meet when the lonely 
lodge of Long Feather the Peacemaker was sight- 
ed. Come rain or snow; come hot or cold; come 
wind or calm, the benevolent looking countenance 
of the Peacemaker wore the same cheery smile, 
and the hearty grip at meedng and at parting. 
Whether in the dirt lodges of the hunted Aricar- 
arees or in the skin teepee of the roving Sioux, 
Long Feathers plead for peace, always; carried 
peaceful messages, diough war and 'Tumors 
of war" were all about him. The blood of both 
tribes coursed through his veins; equally well 



2 10 FkONTIKk ANf> Im'IAN Li I- !• 

vctrsc^d in one languages as the other, and sharing" 
equall)' their confidence in his integrity, he rovc^d 
from one tribe to another for fifteen years and 
died at the Standing Rock Agency, but not before 
he saw that his crood work was ended — for lastinor 
peace and good will now happily dwell between 
the Sioux and Aricarees. 

In the month of August, i88o, I think it was, 
that the writer had his last interview with Long 
P^eather. In meeting toward evening along the 
river trail, we mutually made camp. The place 
of meeting was at Beaver Dam Lake — so called 
from a lone family of persecuted beavers making 
their home among the sylven nooks of the timber 
lined lake, where a waterfall wrought by their ingcMi- 
uity and industry lent enchantment to these primi- 
tive dwellers, or to tresspassing wayfarers. 

The Peacemaker recited his past efforts and dan- 
gers to himself and family, but now he was taking 
grood word to the Sioux. As he sat smoking he 
seemed the very personation of Peace, so quiet, 
so impassive and meek appearing. A beautiful 
memory to linger upon, — this scene of Peacemaker 
telling his closing story. High green n:eadow grass; 
thousands of yellow August flowers; myriads 
ot the ivild sun flowers, waving under oak leafed 
conopies. But let poet Wordsworth finish for us. — 

"Beside the Like beneath the trees, 
Fluttering and dancing in the breezt^. 
Continuous as the stars that shine 

And twinkle on the milky way, 
They stretched, in never ending line, 

Aloiig the the margin of a bay, 

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 
The waves besides them danced — but they 

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee" 




Arioarbe Hunting Lodge. 



THIRD GROUP. 



THS DOCTOR. 

OX the 5th day of May, 1863, under a Virginia 
sun warm and sultry — some three hundred of 
us bhie coats lay huddled together near the shift- 
ing shades of a clump of pine trees on the line of 
the Fredericksburg and Richmond road and a 
few miles south of the first named towm. 

We had been o-athered in at the recrossine of 
the Rappahannock river, when covering Sedg- 
wick's retreat by a full-faced midnight moon; had 
been ambushed and drove back from the ford by 
Gordon's Georgians, and picked up in detail at 
early twilight. 

Over in iront of our guarded cordon was the 
little isolated Guinea Station, with its bleak and 
cheerless look, where were ranged a few hospital 
tents pitched among stumps and mud, and some 
grey coated officers and soldiers loitering around 
in respectful silence, for beneath the station's de- 
caying roof and within its four dingy walls, wStone- 
wall Jackson the great Southern chieftain lay dying. 

Wliether for good or ill, as a member of the 
Second Pennsylvania, and of General Patter- 
son's army, I took part in the held at Jackson's 
first fight and almost only defeat that of Palling 
W'atcrs, near Martinsburg, Virginia, June, 1861. 



i^ Froxttkr axt> Indian Life. 



o 



Later on, in a transformation to the centeanrian 
Ico-ions in the changing commands of Generals 
Stoneman, Pleasanton and Davy Grecro-. — of 
McClellan's Grand Potomac army, — had felt the 
discomforts and disasters attending this matchless 
and tireless southern, in his manoeuvres against us 
in the last days battles in front of the Confederate 
capital in the Peninsular campaign of 1862; had 
seen his heroic action amidst the autumn dnted 
groves of Antietam; had faced his impenetrable 
phalanx on Lee's right on the foggy heights of 
Fredericksburg on the ill-fated i;^th of December, 
of the same year. 

And here, three days since, this moody sol- 
dier had won his greatest of many triumphs, the 
total defeat of Hooker's army at the Chancelorville 
House. But nov.' on the pinnacle of his fame, and 
in the hour of his partisans direst needs, he had 
been cut down by unguarded sentinels of his 
own Division, and what would seem more strange 
— by pickets of his own postmg. 

While on his bed of pain and in the shadow of 
death, we, victims of his prowess and prisoners of 
war, felt a common sorrow with our captors over 
the tragic end of this remarkable man. 

Having contracted an illness after ihc past 
week's exposur(^ i applied to the officer of the 
guard for medical treatment, when a hospital siev.- 
ardof a Mississippi regiment — the i8th. I think it 
was — came up and gave the: desired medicine. 
He was a tall, well formcxl, gcnulemanly appearing 



'rill- Dr,cT(;U. 14 

kind of a man, about thirty years of a^-e. He 
seemed of an inquirinor nature, asking many ques 
lions about Mooker's army and of the North. As 
he tm'ned to go to other duties, he raised a hand 
a.nd pointing his index linger toward the Station, 
caid hurriedly : 

"If Stonewall dies over there, our luck's run 
■down and I am going to get out of this." 

The next morning the captain of our guard — 
6 1 St Georgia regiment — bawk^d out facetiously: 

"Attention ! Yanks ! On to Richmond, for- 
ward march !" 

And thus our weary foot journey to a South- 
ern prison pen commenced. It ended at Castle 
Thunder, the Libby and Belle Isle. 

As we passed a.long through the sweltering 
streets of Richmond, the proud capital was draped 
in deep mourning. The flags were low^ered from 
their mastheads; the public buildings as well as 
private dwellings were lined with crape. They all 
bent in sorrow for tlie one man whose loss was of 
more moment to them than the destruction of 
one of their great armies ; the fleeting years has 
told us that was even more disasterous to the 
conj-bative Southern — the beginnin^g of the end 
of the Conk'deracy itself. 

L\ the monUi of k\^bruary, 1864. 1 was stopping 
at a klattc: river ranch, in central Nebraska, nursing 
a pair of fro/en feet, the result ot exposure in my 
lirst experience in a blizzard on the plains. 



15 Frontier and Indian Life. 

Being casually informed one day by my kind 
and obliging hostess that a newcomer at a neigh- 
boring ranch down the trail was doing some won- 
ders in the medical and healing art — a kind of a 
doctor, she heard her neighbors say — and advised 
my seeing him. Acdng promptly on the informa- 
tion I hobbled down to the place, and after being 
admitted to the new^ doctor's presence, found to 
my surprise that the gentleman before me was no 
other than my quondam acquaintance, the hospital 
steward of Guinea Station, Virginia. 

He gave my case attention, would have no re- 
muneration, but in course of conversation, tind- 
ing that I would soon pass up the trail through 
Columbus, on the Loup, asked as a special favor 
that I deliver a letter in person, and in case of her 
questioning, a guarded verbal message to a lady 
in the village. 

He would leave, he said, in a day or two by the 
Ben Halloday stage line on the overland route to 
Denver, Colorado, or might possibly go on to the 
City of the Saints. In any event, the letter or 
message was not to be delivered until previously 
notified that he was on his way to the mountains. 
Abort the time agreed upon, 1 delivered the 
message as was pledged. But, beforetime, on en- 
quiry among some of the gossipy denizens of the 
village, I found that the lady in question was some- 
thing of a mystery to them. She was reticent, 
avoided social calls or visits, and seemed to shun 
publicity in any manner. But the ever prying 



The D()c'j"(^k. 



lO 



and restless searchers after the sensational had lo- 
cated her previous residence at the Monnan capi- 
tal on the Oreat Salt I,ak(;, and that she was the 
wife of an ofhcer of some rank in the Confed- 
erate army. 

I tound on presenLation, diat slif? was a fair ap- 
pearing )'otmi;- woman of twenty-five or there- 
about, with "a mild mannered countenance of a 
somewhat saddened cast. I gave her the letter to 
read, and remained standing near the door, hat in 
hand. She read the missive without any precepti- 
ble change of countenance. 

"Please describe the gentleman who gave you 
this?" she asked, rising from her chair and facing 
me calmly, with the missive in hand. 

I did as requested, but with caution and no su- 
perfluous words, and I noticed a crimson flow mo- 
mentarily chase the pallor from her cheeks. After 
a short silence, she said with something of a pas- 
sing tremor in her voice : 

"This letter tells me my husband, is dead. Your 
description of the one who sent this, tells me he is 
living." 

.\fter a fevv' more hurried qustions and answers, 
I bowed myself from her presence and saw her no 
mor(\ 

In Auoust of that same vear. while on an over- 
land journey from Nebraska City, on the Missouri 
river by way of the Platte ri\er. Pike's Peak and 
tributaries of the Upper Arkansas, to P^ort Union, 



ly lM<(>NriKk \\h Indian Lifk. 

New Mexico, we made a noon camp on the plnm- 
studded banks of the river Huerfano, and with- 
in the shade ahnost of the naked summits of thc! 
Spanish Peaks — those twin cloud-reachers that 
over-look the surrounding mountainous chain. • 

Here, again, in the predestined hne, or by plpju 
chance, my Doctor friend once more came lo view. 
He was jogging along, with a work-my-passage air 
on the back of a little Mexican jack and clubbing- 
two others ahead of him as packs; was clothed in a 
gaudy suit of fringed buckskin: a handsome d''splay 
of armoral equipments, boots, spurs and a broad 
sombrero that did duty as hat, umljrelia and in 
frolicksome windstorms cut the ant.cs of a kite. 
He said he had just came up irom a re-provision 
trip on the Arkansas river at Boone's old trading 
post. 

In reply to my further questioning, answered 
that he had turned prospector — or rather resumed 
that fascinating calling — having some expe:'ience 
before the war, in Utah and Nevada, and thought 
now to develop his luck around the i'eaks ; the 
gulches of the Greenhorn, and possibly over the 
Fort Garland way. A recent trip in that direc- 
tion, brought him some gold, with color enough 
for good prospects. 

He, lately, he furthermore said, had some little 
trouble, hereabout in convincing the military 
authorities, and some civilians as well, that he was 
not surgeon-general in Reynold's army oi Colo- 
rado insurgents, that had just been capured up 



TiiK f>)( rnk. 1 8 

the Arkansas above Canon City, by a part of Col. 
Chivinufton's command. But now as about all 
were dead who participated in that disasterous 
attempt to help the dying Confederacy at the ex- 
pense of Colorado's peace, he had nothing further 
to fear save now and then a threatened raid from 
the red Kiowas and Comanches. 

Our train rolled out ot the valley to the sun- 
heated sands of the table lands, leavingr the cheer- 
ful miner in solitary camp near the fording. He 
seemed busy over a camp hre with his culinary 
affairs, and the tired, hungr)' looking pack don- 
keys browsing by the hill side. That interview 
was the last as far as we w^ere a party, for the 
Doctor and I never met again. 

Onk night in August, 1872, while at my then 
home at Painted Woods, northern Dakota, I w^as 
awakened from a sound sleep by a loud "hello" 
from the prairie. It was from the throat of a be- 
wildered dispatch carrier, who. in coming from 
Camp Hancock on his way to Fort Stevenson, 
had missed the trail in the darkness, and was wan- 
dering aimlessly and hopelessly about yelling to 
the night gods for inspiration and guidance. After 
locating his distressful sounds, I answered him, 
when he begged me to relieve him of the military 
dispatch and take it to its destination. I had al- 
ready taken a good nap, had a fresh, well fed pony 
at hand, and, as b\- contract, the message must be 
delivered to the commandino^ officer by sunrise. 



19 



Fuon'UKk AM) 1ni)1a-n Life. 



saddled, bridled and mounted, and prilled out for 
the long, lonesome, fifty mile ride. 

At the break of day, I had reached the big hill, 
— the place where the town of Coal Harbor now 
crowns the apex — and in passing along the trail 
through the coulee beyond, my ears caught the 
sounds of clattering hoofs drawing down toward 
me. As the approaching phantom seemed omin- 
ous, and thinking perhaps it was a red man with a 
"bad heart," — an always possibility around there 
in those days — 1 cocked my rifle, and also heard a 
counter click at almost the same instant. 

"White or I red," I bellowed nervously. 

"White," came the ready answer, and in an in- 
stant later a great burly, bushy-bearded fellow was 
by my side. 

"Weil you vv^ant my credentials I suppose," he 
said in a loud coarse voice, "and here you have it. 
I am Mountain Jim of Arizona. My habits are 
o-oosish — north in summer, south in winter. I 
have summered over on the Bridsh boundary and 
am now bound for the Rio Grande. Now, pard 
for yours. 

Well, as time was precious just then, 1 chipped 
my words, and the result was we rode up towards 
th(i frowning ¥on together, as it danced before our 
bewildered opdcs in the glistening rays of an early 
autumn sunrise. 

My mission ended and pony rested, and with 
Mountain Jim as traveling companion, returned to 
the Painted Woods. Here, at the little stockaded 



TnK Doctor. 20 

bastion. Jim found it agreeable to himself to rest 
and recruit like the geese he was trying to imitate, 
whicli were (^ven then in noisy t]ocks in front of 
him on the mid-bars of the wide Missouri. 

Durino- our course of conversation, I found that 
he was well acquainted in Colorado, and New 
Mexico, and among other questions about parties 
there asked if he knew of a wandering prospector 
called the Doctor. 

"Oh yes" he quickly replied. "I knew of that 
poor fellow and of his wind-up too," 

He then told the following story, the main par- 
ticulars 1 can only repeat, from memorys' records, 
prefacing it with a few words about the lay of the 
land. 

One of the more important ramges of mountains 
diverging from the Rocky chain is the Ratoons of 
northeastern New Mexico. A well worn govern- 
ment trail formerly led across it at the Picketwire 
pass, it being in direct line between the freighdng 
points on the Missouri ri\ er, via the middle Arkan- 
sas river route — so called — and Fort Union, for 
many years the principal distributing point for 
military supplies m the southwestern territories. 

Hie Ratoon has also its full share of ghosts 
and nnsteries ; the border lands between the Ute 
and ilu: Comanchie — the eastern frontier of the 
dreaded Apache, and the blue lines of dread to the 
hunted Mexican shepherds, around the primitive 
towns of Las X'egas and HI Moro. 

N(,'ar the summit of the Ratoon on this trail 



2 1 Fro N TIER AND Indian Life. 

surrounded by timbered gulches and canons is a 
large clear water spring with line, though rather 
limited pasture grounds for stock. The writer 
well remembers that in that overland journey of 
1864-5. that at this place were the bones of over 
seven hundred head of oxen the victims of the 
severities of an October snow storm and short 
feed. The loss to the freighters were gain for the 
bears, which were numerous here, as well as the 
savaee brindle wolves. 

On one occasion, durino' the summer of 1868, 
a party of freighters and stockmen while on their 
w^ay across the Ratoon range by way of Picketwire 
pass, encamped for the night on the summit near 
these springs, and awoke next morning to find a 
portion of their herd missing. In looking around 
they disco\'ered a fresh running trail leading over 
the divide on the west side, and a party of eight 
men started upon it in a rapid and determined gait. 

The course was a zigzag one, but finally passed 
over the roueh hills north of Maxwell's noted 
ranch on the Cimmaron river, in a deep gulch 
along one of that river's little tributaries, they 
came rather unexpectedly on a lone white man 
setting complaicantly by a small camp tire with a 
few rude dishes; a miner's pick and some other 
tools, and a can\'ass sack of supposed provisions. 
Near by were three Mexican burros browsing con- 
tentedly. But a little way be)ond them the sharp 
eyes of some of the stockmen detected some odier 



The Doctor. 22 

animals, which on closer inspection proved to be 
the stock they were seekino.. 

A short conversation among- themselves, they 
proceeded to the place of the lone camper, and 
without a word other than an unaudible signal, 
the stranger was pounced upon and bound. He 
se(tmed helpless and dumbfounded at the sudden 
assault and the after accusation. He had been 
charged with the theft of his captors' stock, and 
they setting as judge, jury, witnesses, and the 
last court of earthly appeal, had condemned him 
to be strangled to death. 

The condemned man protested vehemently. 
He was a miner not a thief. He claimed absolute 
innocence of the charg-e, but to no avail. Stolen 
horses were found in his possession. And pos- 
session under such -circumstances as he was sur- 
rounded means enilt. and Pfuilt would mean death. 

He was therefore without further ado, and on his 
part without further struggle, taken by his merci- 
less captor's to a scraggy tree and swung up by 
the neck and left to swing to and fro with the 
shifting winds. 

While hardlv through with their cruel work, 
some of the lynchers espied, some distance away, 
a man gliding along through a clump of bushes, 
as thougli in apparent hiding. A chase was at 
once commenced on this second stranger, and 
after a wild and exciting time, was run down, 
caught and securely pinoned. He proved to be a 
Mexican and when confronted with the charge, in 



23 P^ROXTIEK AND INDIAN LiFK. 

his terror confessed to the steahng of his captors' 
stock, and begored piteously for mercy. Me had 
stolen them unaided and alone. When questioned 
about the man just hanged, said that to him person- 
ally he was a stranger, though he knew of him as an 
occasional caller over at Von (larland for sup- 
plies, being a wandering prospector, and was 
known there as the Doctor. 

The truth now dawned on the conscience-strick- 
en hangmen, that an innocent man had been foully 
strangled by their hands. They hurriedly returned 
to the body but it was cold. The lifeless form 
was cut from the suspending rope and with many 
self-reproaches, rolled up in his blankets, laid in a 
shallow grave with a note tacked upon an excuse 
for a headboard — ''hanged b)' mistake," and by 
some strange caprice or an inward feeling of hor- 
ror for what they had done the Mexican was set 
free. 

"How vain our most confident hopes, our bright- 
est triumphs." So wrote Irving in summing up 
DeBal boa's unhapp)' end. How true also in this 
case. In the murdered prospector's camp was 
found rich ore recently mined, and as it Vv'as but a 
short time later the Cimarron mines were discover- 
ed and opened, that brought wealth to many, we 
cannot doubt that the Doctor had been their first 
discoverer, and while quietly working away for a 
homestake the dark shadow of an ignominious 
death came upon him and closed his golden dreams 
forever. 



THS RSNEGADE CKISF. 

A FEW miU-s south of the. old Pawner Indian 
Agency in the S:ate of Nebraska, diere is a 
small winding- stream putting into the Loup river, 
whose sluggish placid waters with its mirrored 
surface, had suggested to the Indians, long ago, 
the name of die Looking Glass. 

On the Indian trail leading between thi-s now 
abandoned Pawnee village and die town of Colum- 
bus at the junction of the Loup and Platte rivers, 
and within four miles of the last named town, 
there resided in the year 1864, and long years be- 
fore and since — and, for all t-he narrator knows 
still abide there, — an energetic, thrifty and pusli- 
ino- farmer and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Patrick 
Murray. 

In that year 1864, Mr. Murray had a contract 
with the Government for putting up the hay for 
the Pawnee Agency, and as early as the 8th of 
July, his party was encamped and at work on the 
meadows at the mouth of Looking Glass creek. 
Mrs. Murray was in charge of the camp, her hus- 
band having been summoned on a business en- 
gagement a day or two previous to the then cap- 
ital city of Omaha. 

The make up of the hay party besides Mrs. 
Murray, was her brother, one other young man; a 



2 25 Frontier \Nn Indian Lifk. 

sixteen year old boy and a frontier rambler named 
Sam. The man Sam had come down die Platte 
river trail a short time previous, and though olven 
to but little talk, acknovvledored that he had been 
hunting and tn?.pping with the northern branch of 
the Arapahoe Indians in the neighborhood of the 
Big Horn mountains. The man had some notice- 
able peculiarities that tvere remembered of him at 
the Murray farm house. He was a fatalist. He 
was born In Illinois state, but from as early as he 
could remember he believed he was marked out 
to lead an Indian's life. He had simply done 
what he could not help, he said, in living with the 
Arapahoes. Though at times, communicative 
he was given much to solitary brooding. 

About sundown of July 8th, the Looking Glass 
hay party rested frpm work to take supper. Paw- 
nee women from the Agency, who had on previous 
days been within sight oi the camp gathering 
plumb blaus or tipsinee, on this afternoon were 
seen to leave the hills fully two hours earlier than 
usual, and then In a body. Sam remarked on 
this movement as something out of the common, 
and believed they must have had a scare. Those In 
camp nodced that Sam's demeanor become rest- 
less, and was frequently raising his hand over his 
eyes and scanning the hills. All at once Sam's, 
attention was rivited to one spot. A solitary 
horseman was seen to ride upon the point of a. 
ridge overlooking and in plain view of the camp. 
Two or three minutes later the horseman was 
joined by a companion. Then came others In 



Tin: Ri-:m:(;ai)e Chief. 226 

single file until six mounted men stood abreast. 
In Indian file they slowly approached the camp. 
Sam watched them intently all the while with- 
out speaking. The formost horseman started up 
on a canter followed in like speed by the rest 
of the band. When within five hundred yards of 
the hay camp the horsemen now running in curved 
circles circumventing the camp, set up some blood 
curdling yells. Sam's face turned livid, and 
moving excitedly to his companions exclaimed 
with a chokine voice: 

"They are i\rapahoes and I am a dead man !" 
Another minute, they had contracted the circle 
in tightening coils, and were upon the terrified 
and defenseless haymakers. Every Indian war- 
rior had his bow strung and bent and every death 
bearing shaft was sent into Sam's body, until he 
reeled and fell, feebly uttering the words : 
"I'ts Bob — I thoucrht so — I thoug-ht so." 
After Sam had fallen, the bow^men turned their 
attention to Murray's brother-in-law and the other 
man who were also shot undl dead. The boy es- 
caped by hiding under a hay cock at the outset, 
and Mrs. Murray, thinking on the first rush that the 
red marauders only wanted the stock was out and 
endeavoring to hold them, when a stray arrow hit 
her, and falling in the long grass kept quiet. 
They rode away after securing the scalps of the 
murdered men. Several years later while ^the 
writer was residing with the Murrays, the lady w^as 
frequently suffering from effects of this arrow 
which had without much doubt been poisoned. 



227 Frontier xnd Inj^ian Lifk. ^ 

If Sam was correct, here was a war party of six 
Arapahoes who had come from the main camp six 
hundred miles away, rode up within sii^ht of three 
thousand of their enemies — the Pawnees, — and at 
the risk of ahnost sure discovery and death, di- 
rected their attack on a hay camp although they 
could have plenty of opportunities to havc^ killed 
white people for hundreds of miles along- the 
Platte river trail, and which tor the most part 
passed through country claimed by them or terri- 
tory coutiguous thereto. The ferocity which they 
attacked Sam, their united action on him, the recog- 
nidon and dying declaration, made it evident to 
the survivors who lived to tell of this tragedy on 
the Looking Grass, that it was Sam they were 
after, and on him they satisfied their vengeance. 

About the last week in April, 1869, the narra- 
tor became a passenger from the town of Yankton 
on an up-bound steamer, — the fine side wheeler 
Henry M. Shrieve, of St. Louis, Missouri. One 
evening while our boat was puffing along up 
stream in the neighborhood of old P'^ort George, 
we landed at a rather enticing looking wood pile 
for fuel. Before landing we had noticed from the 
boat about, perhaps, a mile below, a man and two 
Indian woman on the sand bar, sitting beside a 
skiff tied at anchor, all three seemingly busy in 
the cheerful and necesssary occupation of eating 
their evening meal. 

On inquiry at the woodyard, the proprietor 



TiiK Ri NF(>.\i)E Chief. 228 

averred that they were a "queer set." Although 
a smattering linguist of many tribes, he had found 
these Indian woman could talk a language that he 
could not understand, "and the buck who mioht 
have once passed for a white man would not talk 
at all." They had come down the river from the 
nordi, he furthermore said, and were evidently 
afraid of the Sioux — so much indeed, that they 
done most of their traveling at night. 

Plenty of leisure while the boat crew were 
packing on wood, and the promptings of an idle 
curiosity, caused me take a walk back to where 
these grotesque strangers were sitting. As far as 
looks go, the man was a hard and tough appear- 
inp- one. He was dressed in a suit of dirty bleached 
buckskin; wore a long wig of matted hair and a 
long busy beard. His dark grey eyes gave forth 
a cold glassy stare. He deigned not to notice my 
approach 

"Good evening," I said, when I stepped up in 
front of them. "A fine evening; traveling down 
the river I suppose?" 

The man made no reply, but raising himself up 
to a standing position, drew forth a huge dag- 
ger from a heavily beaded scabbard that was 
tucked under his body belt, and with his eyes now 
glistening like the star orbed basilisk, pointed the 
glittering blade with an out stretched arm toward 
the fidl -faced "empress of the night," then just 
raising in her full majesty above the tree tops, 
hissed out : 



2 29 Frontier vnd Ii^dian Ltfk. 

'There is the moon !" 

The elder of the two females then jumped to 
her feet and without speaking, tapped her finger 
on the forehead with a rolling motion — the Indian 
sign of crazy. With a short mental conflict of 
ideas, whether the good woman meant the ques- 
tioner or the questioned, I returned to the steam- 
boat at the wood landing. 

The interview was short, it was true, but the 
raising of that dagger toward the moon revealed 
an identity he could not well hide. That grue- 
some weapon was held in a thumbless hand. It 
was my first and last intervietv with the murder- 
ous white chief of an outlawed band of the north- 
ern or Big Horn Arapahoes. 

Arriving at the Fort Berthold Agency in May. 

some twenty days after the pithy interview with 

the thumbless renegade — I learned the trio had 
wintered in a w^oodyard about four miles above 
the Agency. He had a small contract with Gluck 
the woodyard proprietor to chop some cord wood. 
The contract was faithfully carried out on the ren- 
eo-ade's part thanks to thejndustry and muscular 
development of his oldest wife. One peculiarity 
of the renegade was very noticable. Wherever 
he went he carried two long buckskin sacks filled 
with some heavy material. They were about six 
inches in circumference and eighteen inches long. 
He spoke of them as his "'medicine." Other 



Till-: Ri:m-:(;ai.)E Ciiikf. 230 

llighty appearing actions attracted attention with 
people whom he cante in contact with, and while 
many thought his vagaries were "put on" there 
were others who thought the eccentric woodchop- 
per was litde better than an unbalanced lunadc: 
Early In the spring an attache came down from 
Fort Peck, the then leadlnor trading post of the 
great Durfee & Peck company, who stated that 
the "crazy" man was no other than Bob North 
the noted renegade of the Big Horn country. He 
had been recognized while landing at that post 
the previous autumn, by some of Crazy Horse's 
band of Ogallalla's who were on a tradinor trip at 
that place. He had been accused of assisting in 
the destruction of the ten miner's on the Yellow- 
stone near the mouth of Powder river, in 1863, 
and was the leader of the Arapahoe condngent of 
hostiles who assisted at the massacre of the eighty 
soldiers near P'ort Phil Kearney, In 1866, and 
mention was made at the time by the wife of Com- 
mander Carrlngton who afterward wrote a full 
account of that tn?.gedy in the wilderness, in her 
book — "Absaraka or Home of the Crows." 

At Baker's stockade lower Painted Woods, on 
New Year's day 1872, the thermometer, hanging 
on the outward gate, registered forty-tive degrees 
below zero, at sunrise. In company with two 
companions— Trapper Williams and Charley Grey 
— we were huddling around a small fire in the 
cook room, but occasionally taking turns on an 



231 F^KONTIKR AND LmIAN Lllh. 

outside stroll as a kind of a "walking delegate," 
as the time was then up to expect the arrival of 
fifteen lodges of Yanktonay Sioux under chief 
Black Eyes, a supposed hostile band coming down 
from the buffalo range. Word had reached us by 
carrier from the commandment at Fort Stevenson 
to that effect, with the additional admonition to 
be on our guard. Our nearest neighbors at that 
time was nearly forty miles distant, therefore hav- 
ing no reliance but our rifles and our judgment, a 
little caution was deemed advisable. 

Toward noon on that day a warm chin nook 
wafted its soft warm breath down along the ice- 
bound and snow covered Missouri. Out then 
from their hollow snuggeries among the ancient 
oaks and cotton woods, came the big eyed, pointed 
eared cat owls, with their dismal hooting — ihe red 
Indian's danger signal. Sharp reports coming 
from among the thawing cotton woods like the 
opening attack of skirmishers in battle; the shrill 
chirping of the meat-eadng magpie, the flitting of 
the chickadees, the yelping of the never resting 
coyotes. Added to these confusion of noises, 
the effects of the dense air descending through 
air holes and huge fissures of the ice along the 
frozen river which produced strano^e moaning 
sounds like the subdued stress and strains of a 
hurricane in some dense forest of cedar or pine. 
Such scenes and sounds in an almost uninhabited 
wilderness, bring on betimes an indefinable bode- 
ine of fear and harassed feeling of inky gloom. 



The Renegade Chief. 232 

In vain our optics carefully scanned everything 
strange or heretofore unnoticed to the north of 
us, for a sight of the expected hostiles. A ghmpse 
of them would have been a relief— for what fear 
strains on the imagination like a danger in hiding? 

As the wind grew warmer the snow commenced 
meltino- very fast, the air took a hazy hue; 
snags and drifts on distant bars became to the 
overstrained imagination, moving objects. Black 
lines now followed the sand bars under the Square 
Buttes, and around the river. line of the Aragara- 

hoe. 

From the south and not from the north as we 
had expected, moving objects finally came in view. 
All three of us as usual on a fresh alarm came to 
the river bank to watch close the movements of 
the stranoers. Two persons with a pony hitched 
in travaux were plainly observed, when some one 

said : 

"That is Long Feather the peacemaker." 
But as they came up to us, they proved to be a 
white man with an Indian woman. They came up 
to the stockade and the man asked permission to 
remain a few days as they were tired out, having 
wandered up from the Indian Territory, and were 
endeavoring to make their way up to Fort Bel- 
knap near the British line. He was recognized 
as a harmless kind of a fellow that formerly re- 
sided in the Fort Sully neighborhood, while the 
red woman was readily known at first sight o be 
the youngest wife of Bob North the renegad?. chief. 



2 33 Frontier \nd In'Dtan Ltfe. 

During their several clays stay at the stockade, 
some glimpses of the renegade North's life was 
gathered from this Indian woman, that explained 
many happenings on the western frontier that 
had heretofore been inexplicable to many of the 
bordermen. The young woman was the daughter 
of Many Bears, the noted head chief of the Gros* 
Ventres of the Prairies, — kindred of the Arapa- 
hoes. On one occasion while North and his band 
were visiting with the Gros Ventres, North, in 
Indian fashion purchased the young girl from her 
father and made her his second wife. 

The man Sam, spoken of in the first part of 
this sketch, had come to the Arapahoe village in 
North's company, but had as a general thing re- 
fused to accompany North and his band which much 
of their time were raiding the emigrant trail along 
the North Platte river, or beyond in the Ute coun- 







Renegade Chieffi hniul attack a train. 



The Rene(;ai)e Ciitef. 234 

try at the head of the Laramie, or about the parks 
of the main range. Sam had been killed by Bob 
as already described, l)y the Arapahoe band but for 
what special reason she did not know. They were 
over two weeks on the trail when they came back 
with Sam's blood matted scalp. Sam had been 
located by North on a spying trip to the settle- 
ment while his band was in hiding among the hills. 
Thompson concluded his wife's story. He had 
incidently met the outlaw and family a few days 
after the writer's interesting and pointed interview 
with him on on the sand bar near old Fort George 
At meeting, the arrogance of the outlaw was sub- 
dued and his mental condidon took a normal turn. 
Hundreds of suspicious Sioux were after him, and 
if caught he would fare badly. 

To guide him swiftly out of the country and to 
be his companion, North made Thompson the gen- 
erous offer of his youngest wife. The tempting- 
prize was accepted and the four pulled out for the 
^ Indian Terrritory. 

It was near the Kansas south line, at the mid- 
night hour, during a rainy, uncomfortable October 
storm, 1869, that brought North to the end of 
his rop(\ Th(' outlaw's party was heading for the 
camp of the southern Arapahoes, and were rest- 
ing as best they could from the buffiting of the 
storm without their tent, when a body of men — 
vigilantes or robbers, the siu'vivors could never 
tell — surrounded them and laid their clinched hsts 
upon th(^ renegade chief with the remark: 



2 35 Frontip:r \nd Lndtan Life. 

"North you scoundrely renegade we have you 
at last." 

North was lied, hands and feet, and draesfed to 
a tree and hanged. The Arapahoe wife fought 
with the fury of a hyena, and shared her white 
husband's merited doom; a pitying tear to wifely 
loyalty that forced her across the dark river in the 
company of her pale faced mate. 

The lynching party secured the ''medicine" 
sacks from the outlaw and made way with them. 
The pouches undoubtedly contained gold and most 
probably was taken from the bodies or effects of 
the murdered miners of Powder river or elsewhere. 
While the detection of North by the Kanzas 
lynchers remains a mystery, the most probable 
theory is that he had been shadowed from the 
Upper Missouri country. 

Thompson and his Indian wife were not dis- 
turbed by the midnight raiders but ordered under 
threats to return northward at once, to which they 
readily complied. 

After a few days rest at the Baker stockade, 
Thompson and his wife started out on their jour- 
ney, but came across Charley Reynolds then hunt- 
ing around Lake Mandan. The pair became, by 
easy persuasion, camp keeper for the noted hunt- 
er and served him faithfully for some months. 
"Em," as her husband affectionately called her 
had the fair complexion of the tribes of the far 
north. At the time of which we are writing, she 
was about twenty years of age. She could talk 



Till-: Rf.nec;at)e Chief. 2^6 



a little English, and it was pathetically interesting 
to see the painstaking efforts she made to imitate 
the civilized ways of a good housewife. 

While returning from a trapper's ''sign-up" on 
Grennell creek, above the White Earth river, in 
the autumn of 1875, I accidently met Charley Rey- 
nolds in the company of Orvill Grant, brother of 
President Grant, and Trader Parkin, of the Stand- 
ing Rock Agency, who w ere on their way to Fort 
Belknap, the Agency of the River Crows and 
Gros Ventres of the Prairie. 

After their return I again met Reynolds, this time 
at P^ort Berthold where he gave an account of a 
closing glimpse of the remaining characters of 
this sketch. After their arrival at Belknap and 
res'Led som^nvhat, Pvcynolds said he naturally in- 
quired for his quondam campkeepers of the Lake 
Mandan hunt — "Em" and her husband. He was 
told that the pair had arrived there all right, but 
the chief Many Bear. PZm's father, and all his fam- 
ily and the principal part of his tribe had died 
durinp^ the small pox epidemic of 1869-70. Some 
Agency employee pointed out a place beyond the 
Port whert: Thompson's remains were quietly 
resting, and that Em was very sick at that time 
in a lodge not far away. 

While moving among a group of lodges near 
the place pointed out by the employee, he heard 
the familiar voice of the one he was seekincr. It 
was in broken and feeble tones, and before the 



2^^ Frontter *.nd Lndtan Life, 



■.s/ 



sympathetic hunter entered the lod^e the sufferer 
repeated plaintively : 

''Oh, Thompson ! Oh, my Thompson, come." 
When Reynolds looked about him within the 
lodge, the sick woman lay curled up in a well worn 
buffolo robe, absolutely alone, and apparendy, fast 
passing away. Without were merry, roystering 
voices'" of health and hope; within the rasping 
cough; the muffled sobs She made no si^n of re- 
cognition as her former employer and good friend 
raised the lap ol robe from her face, and bent 
soothingly over her, but kept on repeadng in a 
pleading way:— -Oh, Thompson ! Oh my Thomp- 
son, come." Poor dying girl your cry was for 
nauoht. Your Thompson's body was already 
moulderino- with the dust. 



r^r^rrnr^j^'S^s^r 




BUCKSKIN JOE. 

THE American wild Indian, in custom, usually 
bestows some name on his child early in life, 
but that name is sometimes changed afterward to 
some peculiarity of character, or habit of the in- 
dividual, and if a boy, some after achivement in 
war or hunting. When fame once acquired under 
a particular name the cognoman so bestowed, be- 
comes permanent. 

The average white frontierman, in spite of his 
oft expressed antipathy to the general character 
and customs of the red race, has meantime un- 
consciously copied many of the Indian's habits 
and peculiarities; among them the custom of 
bestowing a name on some newcomer in the 
neighborhood, suited to that stranger's style of 
action, habits of dress or whatever else impressed 
the aforesaid self constituted board of critical ''old- 
timers." 

It was indeed an uninte reining section of the 
wild west that did not, — sometime in its history — 
produce a local famed "Buckskin Joe." He ap- 
pears in various disguises and characteristics in 
the early annals of 1 exas, California, Nevada, 
Oregon and Colorado. 

The Buckskin Joe of the Upper Missouri river 
country, was duly christened by the afore-mention- 



239 Frontikr ^ni^ Imhan Ltkk. 

ed "old timers" when he appeared among dit^m 
in 1868, a gaudily and tastefully uniformed "ten- 
derfoot" in the habiliments of the bad man of the 
border. He was about eighteen years of age, 
and had come out from his home in far New Eng- 
land to visit his father who was in the Govern- 
ment service at one of the military^ posts in 
Montana. 

Youthful Joseph had an impressionable mind. 
From the forward cabin of an elegant steamer, he 
saw a new manner of life and in strange contrast 
with his former surrounding in his eastern natal 
place. He saw vast tracts of land on either side 
of him which seemed as trackless as the sandy 
deserts in the Soudan wastes of Africa. He saw. 
as the boat plowed the channel waters of endless 
swirls like the proud crested swan, — wild animals 
start from their willow coverts and flee in affright 
from the strange noises of the huge paddle 
wheels and escaping steam of the boiler. He 
saw at long intervals along the banks of the wide 
river, a strange colored race of people living in 
skin lodges, or in houses shaped like an inverted 
U'ooden bowl. He saw at long stretches, log shacks 
at convenient places, where we^od was cut in mea- 
sured lengths and piled up in long ricks for the 
passing steamers, the work being done by a class 
o( men, that appeared to him a cross between 
these wild denizens of the skin teepee and his 
own people. He observed how free and untram- 
meled were the lives thev led, without thc^ con- 



Buckskin Jok. 240 

stralnts of society and the dubious dodgeings to 
"keep straight" and avoid the besetting net work 
of the intricacies .of die law, as he had seen in 
places back in a land where high pressure civiliza- 
tion ruled. He saw the hunter, trapper and the 
wolfer togged up as fanciful and showy as the red 
dude of an Indian village, and their mettled steeds 
that they bestrode in their prairie wanderings 
were decked out in paint and feathers as was the 
favorite war ponies of their red rivals. 

These varying scenes and moods of life were 
presented to Joseph in an endless turn of kal?id- 
oscopic views as the steamer puffed and blowed 
against the sdff June currant that flooded down 
from the snowy sides of the Rocky mounrains. 
But his awakening mind settled on the one point, 
— diat a future hunter's career was his destiny. 

About these times, (1868) steamboating on the 
Upper Missouri river had reached its zenith. 
Boats coming up fn^m St. Louis were loaded with 
passengers for the new gold fields of Montana 
and Idaho. The steamers were provided with well 
furnished cabins and slate rooms. A good larder 
being indispensible on so long a journey, induce- 
ments were held out to the woodyard men of the 
upper country to furnish fresh meat as well as 
wQod for the passing boats. As the timbered 
points from Fort Randall to Ft. Benton at that time 
contained large numbers of deer and elk, and 
die prairies (or the greater part of the same dis- 
tance ranged numerous herds of antelope, be- 



241 ['^KON'riKR \M) LnDIAN LiFE. 

sides occasional droves of buffaloes, the task of 
plentifidly supplying the boats with fresh wild 
meats was not a difficult one. 

Almost the first act in his hunting commence- 
ment Joseph hired out to the boat captains as 
"meat maker" on their passage through the wild 
game section. His passage secure, a good table 
to sit down to at regular intervals to stay a healthy 
appetite; credit at the bar on the prospective roll 
of deer and antelope hides, was a self satisfied 
condition of things that the young hunter thor- 
oughly enjoyed and had no wish to jeopardise by 
indiscreet action. As the days went on and young 
Joseph extended his observations, and profited 
thereby, he intertained his fellow passengers with 
a loquacity prone to that: manner of life, that 
would have done credit to one with much niore 
practical experience in the hunter's occupation 
than he. But somehow the tolerant and good 
natured captains usually discovered at the end of 
two or three days, the tact unfolded with suspicious 
care, that the affable "meat maker" notwithstand- 
ing the showy insignia of his calling and vaunting 
pretentions, usually hunted with his tongue. Me 
accustomed himself to find ready excuses at the 
non-appearance of fresh wild meat at the boat's 
table, that in such points that he hunted while die 
boats crew were wooding up, — the plausible story 
came to him that he saw the startling sign of a 
big war party — and surely no one wanted him to 
risk^even chances on being scalped for the sake 



BicKSKiN Joe. ,242 

of an elk or a deer. At another wood stop a 
short ramble would convince him that "a hunting 
party of snaky Injuns had driven the point and 
scared the game out." i\t another time he would 
come out of the timber with a detailed and breezy 
statement of how he wounded a big fat buck, and 
yet another time it would be a band of antelope, 
that "took away a lead mine with them pumped 
from my telescopic Sharp gun, but got out of sight 
among the bluffs." The wounded orame story came 
in handy when the gang planks were pulled in and 
no chance for a sympathizing passenger to help 
him out by volunteering to assist in trailing. The 
boat could not loose unnecessary time. 

But, alas for our young friend's free rides, free 
grub and free whisky, his star as "meat maker" 
grew dim while the tongue-hunting star shone 
out with the radiant glare of a big full-faced har- 
vest moon, and it was a green captain, indeed, who 
employed Buckskin Joe as wild meat hunter on a 
Fort Benton trip. 

The next heard of Buckskin was around Fort 
Buford. He came into that post one day during 
a January storm and in a brisk, business-like air, 
walked up to the commandant's quarters to make 
a requisition on diat officer for the use of two six 
mule teams lo haul up the carcasses of one dozen 
elk that he had butchered in a timber point below 
the shute at the moi^ith of the Lower or Little 
Muddy river. After Joseph was feasted and fed 
rcn'all)' ior two or three days as the hero of a great 



243 Frontier and Indian I^ikk. 

hunter's coup, putting to shame the pretensions 
ot Yellowstone Kelly and even withering the 
green laurels that had so long encircled the brow 
of the prince of nimrods — Lonesome Charley- 
Reynolds, the necessary teams, drivers and escorts 
were furnished by the quartermaster in obediance 
to the post commandant's orders to assist Buck- 
skin Joe in the transportadon of several tons of 
wild meat to the fort. 

The party reached the scene of the great hunt 
in due dme and after diligent search, but one elk 
could be found. A light snow saved the hunter 
from immediate and posidve humiliation. After a 
few pantomimic bursts of dispair, Joe condemned 
a pack of imaginary wolves for depriving the gar- 
rison of some toothsome feasts. 

Having run his hunters' reputation to cover, 
Joseph tried a new vocation — that of whiskey tra- 
der. A plausible showing of expectant profits in- 
duced a bar tender on one of the Montana bound 
steamers to land our hopeful hero and a five gal- 
lon keg of bad whisky near the mouth of Porcu- 
pine creek, where a band of whisky drinking As- 
sinaboines were encamped. It took but a few 
minutes to strike up a trade with these thirsty 
Indians. They brought bales of robes and furs 
to the point of rendezvous agreed upon and cheer- 
fully dumped them over the river bank where 
the tickled trader had a skiff in waiting to receive 
them. He joyfully passed up the whisky as fast 
as he could measure the liquid out. But die firey 



Buckskin Joe. 244 

stuff went to the poor Indians' heads at once and 
they commenced a furious fusilade with their guns. 
The result was, that Joe took to the willows and 
woods and was glad to exchange fur, robes, skiff 
and even his gun for safety from a tragic death 
prospect among drunk crazed savages. 

He related a pitiful story to the bar tender 
of the disastrous outcome of his trading trip. 
Undaunted, he was again staked with a five gallon 
keg of ''fire water" with all the name implied. 
This time he would try the Indians around Fort 
Berthold, where he hoped for better results for old 
acquaintance sake. He succeded in getting three 
ponies, which success in the sanguinity of his na- 
ture he imparted to a friend that "it will put me 
foot foremost." 

He had, however, hardly made his trade and 
satisfied himself of its happy termination when a 
young Gros Ventre, who had once been Joe's 
partner on an unlucky hunt, came up while the 
new owner srill h^ld his acquisition firmly by the 
lariats, and cast admiring glances upon them. 

"My friend," said the young Gros Ventre, 'Vou 
are now rich, while I am poor; you have three fine 
ponies while 1 have none. Take pity on me." 

Here was an old partner in distress. Joe's heart 
sw^elled, and the lariat holding his best pony was 
then placed in the Gros Ventre's hands, and the 
happy recipient went off rejoicing. 

Then came along an old Aricaree. "My young 
friend," said the red brother smiling blandly, "you 



245 FkoNTTKk \Ni) Indian Likk. 

havci two handsome ponies — you are rich. I have 
a nice daughter. Give me your best pony and 
my daughter is your wife." Buckskin Joe assent- 
ed and thus by custom of the Aricarees, he had 
become entwined in the Hymenial coil. 

He had had hardly taken possession of his 
bronzed bride, before he heard an Agency em- 
ployee cry OLit lustily : 

"Run for your life Joe, the police are after you !" 
The discomfited bridegroom rushed toward the 
willow patch but being pressed for time hid under 
an ov.erturned bull boat. I^ut he was discovered, 
dragged from his hiding place, and sent down to 
Fort Stevenson in irons. A few days later the 
steamer Nellie Peck, Captain Grant Marsh in 
comm.and, came down from the mountains and the 
prisoner was placed in the captain's charge with 
instructions to have him safely delivered to the 
civil authorities at Yankton for trial. 

It so happened that partner Mercer arid my- 
self having lost some ponies and mules, and learn- 
ing they w:er^ on the bottoms opposite Fort Rice, 
hailed ihe steamer Nellie Peck from the Painted 
Woods/landing and took passage lor the neigh- 
borhood of that place. On being put ashore he 
captain requested one of us to take an extra gun 
and the other a roll of blankets to be lef; on th(! 
river bank "until called for." Meantime the en- 
gineer of the boat in "blowing off ' enveloped th(.^ 
vessel in a steam cloud as it slowly receded from 



Buckskin Joe. 246 

the bank. Out from the sleani cloud on the shore 
af er ihe steamer i^Hded on down stream — came 
forih Buckskin Joe, buoyant in spirits and claimed 
die property dial was to be "called for." These 
events happened in june, 1871. 

The lessons of June, 1871, were heeded, and 
at the age of twenty-one years, Buckskin Joe be- 
came a changed young man. He was done with 
foolish pranks. He became a good hunter and 
trapper, and in the hostile neighborhood of Fort 
Peck, killed several Indian warriors in fair fights. 
He became the most proficient Indian sign talker 
among white men to found along the Upper Mis- 
souri river, if not in the entire West. He was a 
good trailer and plainsman, and his services were 
held in high estimation by the managers of the 
j^reat Durfee & Peck company, who had tempor- 
ary trading houses established at convenient 
places throughout the northern buffalo range, io 
keep up communication between these isolated 
posts in a hosiile.- Indian country required the ser- 
vices ot experienced frontiersman. A record of 
the closing days of Joe's career come to us while 
he was employed in diis kind of service. 

P^ort Belkiiap on the upper branches of Milk 
river, near the Bear P'aw mountains, was in the 
lange of several Indian tribes who were contin- 
ually in a state of open hostility with each other 
and making it dangerous at all times on the prair- 
ies outside ot the immediate protection of the 



247 Frontiek \n.i) I.ndian l.irK 

protection of the fortified bastions. In such a 
state of affairs on these ranges the Indian "sign 
talker" was a welcome and valuable addition to 
the help about a trading post. Buckskin Joe was 
everywhere recognized in that artas fully equal lo 
the red men that he imitated. 

His educauon in this line had been received in 
a peculiar school. He had early made the sign 
language a special study, and while at Belknap he 
hit upon the novel idea of finishing up this study 
by marrying a deaf and dumb woman of the tribe 
of River Crows. Besides educating her husband 
she brought into the world a young son who was 
almost idolized by the white father. Joe's affec- 
tion for the his boy "Billy" is one of the reveries 
of pleasant memories of the employees of Fort 
Belknap during the years 1873-4 5. 

Joe was given a dispatch to carry from Fort 
Belknap to Fort Benton, some time in December 
1877. The first night out he encamped in a 
sparsely timbered coulee with a surrounding of 
high and broken hills. A little flurry of snow 
during the night, and the weather being cold and 
blustry, he kept up a large blazing fire and had 
evidently passed a cheerless night. When morn- 
ing came he roused himself and took a glance in 
the direction where his pony had been picketed 
but found that the animal had disappeared. Hast- 
ily walking to the place w^here he had driven the 
pin in the earth, he found it raised, the lariat 
gone, and all the appearance of a scare. Neglect- 



Buckskin Jof:. ^ 248 

ing- his gun he started off in the direction the an- 
imal had taken, and a clue from hoof imprints led 
him to watching along until he sighted his pony- 
quietly feeding at the edge of a ravine nearly one 
mile from his camping place. 

Without the usual suspicion that had saved him 
from traps heretofore, he walked briskly toward 
his pony, when at a sharp angle of the ravine he 
was startled by the loud report of a rifle followed 
quickly by two or three others, and then a ball 
went crashing into Joe's thigh bone, and he fell to 
the ground. The long black hair and red painted 
faces of half a dozen Indians now peered above 
a depression in the curve of a coulee, and one of 
them shouted out to the wounded dispatch carrier, 
as interpreted from the language of the Sioux : 

"Hog face white man your time has come!" 

Joe saw himself helplessly in a trap and endrely 
at the mercy of his murderers. But his coolness 
and nerve did not desert him, even as he knew 
his impending doom in the glistening, snaky eyes 
of his adversaries. He partly raised himself by his 
hands and thus addressed the Indians in Sioux as 
they approached him : 

*'Why do you kill me ? You are Medicine Bear's 
Yanktoneys. I have harmed none of you." 

"White men have too many tongues," replied 
the savage spokesman, and fired another volley 
from their rifles, when Buckskin Joe fell backward 
to join the unending list of the great plains' 
gra\eless dead. 



249 Frontier and Iniman Life. 

A tear to Joe's memory say you. A tear for 
poor boy ''Billy" say we. 

In the year 1884, R. H. Allen, who took charcre 
of the Agency of the Blackfeet, Gros Ventres and 
River Crows, on April ist, of that year reported 
the condition of the Indians at Fort Belknap and 
the reservation as follows : 

"When I entered upon the duties of agent I 
found the Indians in a deplorable condition. Their 
supplies had been limited, and many of them 
were gradually dying of starvation. 1 visited a 
large number of tents and cabins the second day 
after they had received their weekly rations, look- 
ed through them carefully and found no provisions, 
except in two instances. All bore marks of suf- 
fering from lack of food, but the little children 
seemed to have suffered most; they were so ema- 
ciated that it did not seem possible for them to 
live Ions: and many of them have since passed 
away." 



A. 



McCAIiL THE MINBR. 

ON the east bank of the Missouri, just across 
from the mouth of lower or Big Knife river, 
a ridge of high bhiffs come up abruptly to the 
waters edge. 

The general view from these lofty over-topping 
ridges, along the far winding valley of this mighty 
waterway, is one of the most artistic grouping of 
nature's suburb handiwork, that can anywhere be 
seen in that section of the country. 

The valley of the Big Knife river, with its short 
serpendne windings and its inner bends thickly 
studded with groves of ash, elm and box elder, is, 
to the eye ot the lover of the beautiful in nature, 
always pleasant to look upon. Or the south bank 
of this clear water stream, — near where its waters 
mingle with the muddy swirls of the swift and 
wide Missouri— now stands the skeleton town of 
Stanton, and on die same sight where eighty years 
ago, the lasi village of the extinct tribe of Anah- 
aways or Black Shoes had run their life race to a 

finish. 

Further up the Knife river on both banks, near 
the high or second bench land can be seen the 
round earth circles, with here and there a raised 
mound, that mark th(^. spot where the historic Gros 
Ventre town of Metaharta stood through centur- 
ies of wild Indian life; where the cruel head chief 



25 r Frontier and Indian Life. 

Horned Weasel set sulking in his tent when visit- 
ed by Captain Lewis, of the Lewis and Clark ex- 
pedition of 1804, and as noted down in their jour- 
nal at the time, this morose chieftain availed him- 
self of the ''civilized indecorum of refusing to le 
seen." It was here too, in the closing days of 
Metaharta's history, it give up the flower of its 
youth in disastrous war and the towns stength faded 
away by recurring visits of small pox and cholera. 

Twelve miles below on the same side of the 
Missouri, yet in plain view from these high bluffs 
on the east bank can be seen the plain where once 
stood the famous fronder trading post of early day 
history — old Fort Clark, and near by the low lying 
mounds that marked the spot where, also, the 
principal part of the Mandan nation laid down 
their lives to a death-dealing pestilence. 

A few miles further down along the banks of 

the big river, passing juts of broken hills and bad 

lands until Lake Mandan — 

'Tn all her length far winding lay, 
With promitory creek and bay, 
And islands that empurpled bi-ight, 
Floated amid the livelier light, 
And mountains that like giants stand, 
To sentinal enchanted land." 

Underneath these bluffs of the east and north 

side of the Missouri, described in the first part of 

this sketch, lignite coal indications were noticed 

by early travelers, and efforts had been made by 

the steamboat companies toward their opening and 

development; but little came of it, except for a 

fresh subject in a dull conversadon. 



McCall the Miner. 252 

Memory recalls a little grass plot, lying between 
these rugged precipitous bluffs, and the steep, 
high bank at the river's brink. It recalls a neat 
little cabin built of small cottonwood logs in the 
centre of the oases. It recalls a Htde iron grey 
pony picketed on choice spots where the nutritious 
buffalo grass kept him in a pleasant mood. Poor 
faithful old *'Jim" pony, we revere you for your 
good master's sake. But memory is not done 
yet. Events and sight come again. We see up 
against the side of a high bluff a large round 
opening, with the deadening sound of a miner's 
pick coming out of the interior. We see the fig- 
ure of an old grey-headed grey bearded man with 
pick in hand toiling faithfully among a pile of coal. 
Is he alone ? Does he talk to the shelved walls 
around him that gave back answers in his own 
voice ? "My fortune ! my fortune ! Here is my 
fortune. Out of your shelves, oh, deadened 
sound and repeat once more if never again : ''My 
fortune ! my fortune ! Here is my fortune." 

During the years 1872-3, one of the most wel- 
come visitors to my Painted Woods old stockade 
home, was McCall the Miner. The veteran 
mineralogist was at that time about sixty years of 
age, though his physical carriage was erect and 
his step as firm as one twenty years younger. 

He had left his home, which, if we remembt-r 
aright was in the State of Illinois, and joined a 
gold hunter's cavalcade to the mines of California 



253 Frontier and Indtan Life 

in 1849. For twenty years thereafter he roamed 
in prospecting tours through the mountain ranges 
of the Pacitic coast. 

He had followed every mining "stampede" of 
any consequence that had — during a space of 
twenty years — occurred within the gold belt. Had 
experienced a disappointment at Pike's Peak; 
felt the burnino sands of the Nevada desert; went 
hungry at Salmon river; suffered hardships at 
Frazer river; and suffered everything but death in 
that wild midwinter rush to the bleak, desolate 
plains of upper Sun river, where so many of his 
prospecting companions by open plain and moun- 
tain gulch, lay down in their snowy mantels and 
were put to their last long sleep by the whistling 
requiems of stern, hard-faced Boreas. 

In all my personal experience among men, I 
have no recollection of knowing of one who had 
seen so much disappointment, yet carry the bright 
beacon of hope ever in front of him — ever casting 
reflective rays in advance, — to lighten the gloom, 
to bid him push on — as McCall the Miner. 

Every visit to the Painted Woods by the old 
man, left the impression of unquenchable hope. 
Dispair, so somebre-hued to others, was to him 
unknown. His last visit marked the same prohle 
and his voice sounded in the same phonographic 
repeatino- sound that I first heard at the Elm point 
coal mine, when in that dark cavern, wiih my pres 
ence unknown to him — repeating to himself: "My 
fortune ! my fortune! Here is my fortune. " 



McCaLI. THE MiNKR. 254 

McCall's coal mine project like so many of his 
previous ventures, ended in failure. Outside 
markets for his product there were none, and the 
few inhabitants that then resided on the Missouri 
slope, found the outcroppings of good coal in 
abundance at their own doors. 

It was, therefore, with considerable satisfaction 
that the veteran prospector received the appoint- 
ment of special mineralogical expert from General 
Custer on behalf of the Government for the 
Black Hills expedition of the summer of 1874, 
which that dashing officer commanded in person. 

It is from statements of some of the m^n who 
accompanied the military opening of that treasure 
trove, that give us a glimpse of McCall during 
that trip. He had long been an earnest advocate 
of its occupation and utalization by the white race. 
Now that his hopes were at last realized, his spirits 
took a cheerful turn. 

Up on the side of a sloping hill in a deep cut 
ravine that faces the Belle Fourche river, stands 
McCall. It is a warm June day and Custer and 
his soldiers have unsaddled their horses, and while 
some have sought the breezy pine tree shades for 
an after dinner nap, others are admiring the showy 
clusters of wild ilowers that were in wide bloom 
down the valley. Near McCall stand two other 
miners, and each like himself with pick in hand. 

McCall strikes his pick in 10 the earth — L;ood 
n^oiher earth" !:he is now and gives up her rich 



2 55 Frontier and Indian Life. 

treasure with unsparing hand. "Why, here is 
gold in the grass roots !" exclaimed the old miner. 
Custer was sent for, and a dispatch as embodied 
in McCall's words, was written out and handed to 
Charley Reynolds, who, within two days there- 
after, placed it on the wires at Fort Laramie and 
thence by lightening's speed sent to the uttermost 
parts of the civilized earth. 

Meantime the news of the gold find spread 
through the camp of Custer's men, and an ex- 
citing and happy feeling seemed to prevail among 
them all — no, not all. McCall stood by in musing, 
pensive silence, though here his live dream 
brought forth a realistic and joyful awakening. 
Those standing near him hear in soft whispers 
coming from his lips his fateful dream words: 
"My fortune ! my fortune. Here is my fortune." 

After the return of the Black Hills expedition 
to Fort Lincoln, McCall the Miner, now released 
from his obligation to the Government, set about 
organizing a private expedition to the Hills, 
though well knowing it was u needed Sioux land, 
being the most valuable part of their reservation. 

A party of about twenty men enlisted with 
McCall in this gold-hunting enterprise, and under 
his guidance made their way to the foot hills on 
Rapid creek, sometime in October. They were 
soon joined by other parties until the Black Hills 
country became literally over-run with prospect- 
ing miners and adventurers. 



McCai.l THE Miner. 256 

Up to this time the Sioux had not disturbed any 
of the intrudinor whites. But this could not be 
expected to continue. Protests against the un- 
lawful occupation by Indian representatives, and 
a feeble attempt had been made to accede to their 
wishes by Government agents, but were futile. 
Popular clamer among westerners who were inter- 
ested one way or another in the opening, created 
a strong feeling, and th? old cry that "the Indians 
must go" as they had went so many times before. 
The military authorities made some attempt to 
stay the tide, but were powerless to enforce any 
edict however just, against trespassers who were 
backed by public sympathy and clamor. 

Emigrants commenced gathering at the various 

outfitting points leading to the new Eldorado. 

Impromptu songs of an inspiring nature were 

sung on the march or at the evening camp fires, 

with a general chorus like the following : — 

'•Hurrah, hurrah, we're marching west to-day, 
Move on, move on and give the right of way; 
So we'll sing the chorus for we're going out to staj. 
In the golden Black Hills." 

"Where is McCall ?" Such was the question 
often asked by the campers in the Black Hills, 
during the winter of 1S74-5. No one had seen 
him since November, when he had left his party 
in a "cranky" spell, and had saddled up Jim pony 
and leading another one as pack animal, hied him- 
self over the hills and away in high dudgeon at 
some fancied grievance, and was seen no more by 
his friends and acquaintances. 



2 57 Frontier and Indian Lifk. 

To the Indian, then, we turn again, as we have 
many times previous, for the last chapter in a fron- 
tiersmans life. 

One March day, 1876, I found myself at Mal- 
norie's place, at Fort Berthold. Lonesome Char- 
ley Reynolds was stopping there, having come up 
trom the new agency in the interest of the Gov- 
ernment, watching the movements of the hostile 
Sioux on the Yellov\^stone, through their runners 
to the camps oi the F^ort Berthold bands. Two 
Uncpapas among the Gros Ventres, were kept in 
line of observation. Reynolds nodced them take 
their seat in the snow by the river bank and keep 
their eyes on the west side of the Missouri. 

"Let us watch the watchers," said Reynolds to 
the writer as we were basking in the bright, but 
heatless rays of this March day sun. After about 
an hour, the Indians exhibited signs of interest. 
A line of black objects were seen hieing down into 
theVtimber from the Beaver creek ridges. They 
there encamped. They proved to be a small band 
of Uncpapa Sioux. Among their stock, jaded and 
tired, ,some Aricaree visitors to that camp recog- 
nized poor old Jim, Miner McCall's faithful pony. 
It was from an Aricaree interpreter, we gathered 
the following, though the stictures are the writers : 
A chilly, windy, April day on a small creek north- 
west of the Black Mills, a band of six Indians are 
jogging along on their tired ponies. They were of 
-Black Moon's camp of Uncpapas, who were en- 



McCall the Miner. 258 

camped on Powder river. These six were picked 
men, sent out by their chiefs on a reconnoisance 
to observe the movements- of the white trespassers 
among the Black Hills. 

While taking close observadons along the creek 
the Indians observed a white man mounted upon a 
pon}^ and leading another bearing a pack. The 
movements of the man were leasurely; the ponies 
nipping at bunches of grass as they walked along. 
This convinced the Indians that the white man was 
not making any point in particular, so watched 
his movements without fear. 

McCall, finally, saw the Indians, but their bear- 
ing was such that he thought he had not been seen, 
and quickly retrograded, to a clump of bushes, 
and entered them with his animals to escape ob- 
servadon. He had hardly time to congratulate 
himself on his timely warning and fortunate es- 
cape, when his startled ears heard the ominous 
words: "How." 

The white man, old feeble looking, repeated in 
a faint, tremulous voice, *'How, " meantime peer- 
ino- out throupfh the branches at six stalwart sav- 
ages, hideously painted in red and yellow, sitting 
in their saddles, with a languid, nonchalant man- 
ner, but with gun covers drawn. 

"Come here !" shouted one of the Indians in 
good English. 

Now old man, where are your wits ? Do you 
not notice the peculiar paint on their faces ? Do 
you not see those naked gun barrels ? True, 



2 59 Frontier and Indian Lifk. 

there had been no white man killed by Indians 
around the Black Hills country yet. You have a 
good true gun in your hand, and a splendid six 
shooter in your belt — all loaded. You have the 
shelter of the brush, and there are but six of them. 
Strike for your life — old man — strike. 

"Come here." 

Once more musty old proverb, — once more: 

"He who hesitates is lost." 

Weak, confused, unguarded man. You have 
left your covert to shake the proffered hands 
of hostile men. 

Many weeks after the events herein recorded, 
a party of prospecting miners, wandering among 
the gulches and creeks northwest of the Black Hills 
came upon the partly, decomposed corpse of a 
white headed, white bearded old man. The body 
had been badly mutilated, and the contents of a 
large sack of gold dust had evidently been taken 
from the dead man's effects, cut open, and scat- 
tered in deep gashes, cut in the corpse. Here, 
then was fortune's ending as far as McCall the 
Miner was concerned. While a shallow grave 
was being prepared for the mutilated remains, 
the bendinsf, sawing, wind swept trees above 
them, seemed endlessly repeating in soft requiem: 
"My fortune ! My fortune. Here is my fortune." 



FORT TOTTSN TRAIL 

THE old military post of Fort Totten, located 
on the southeast shore of Devil's Lake, was 
established in 1867, and became the second post 
in the Northwestern chain between Fort Aber- 
crombia on the Red River of North and Fort Bu- 
ford at the mouth of the Yellowstone River. The 
construction was commenced under Lieut. Col. G. 
A. Williams, of the 20th U. S. Infantry. 

The Devil's Lake, or as originally called by the 
Sioux, Mde Wakonda or sometimes Minnewakon, 
is the largest body of water in North Dakota, and 
around its limbered shores for many years prior to 
the military occupation, had been the chosen homes 
of the Sisseton branch of the Santee Sioux. 

At the time of the military occupation of the 
Devil's Lake country in 1867, many of the Sisse- 
tons were unfriendly to the establishment of the 
post there, but further than waylaying a soldier 
or mail carrier occasionally, or stampeding the beef 
herd no particular harm came from their hostility. 

Fort Stevenson the third post or link in the 
chain was one hundred and twenty miles away — a 
little' south of west — on the Missouri river. To 
keep up communication between these two forts, 
a semi-monthly mail line was established that re- 
mained in service for a number of years, and with. 
the yearly pilgrimages of the hay contractors out 



26 1 Frontier and Lmhan Likk, 

fit from St. Paul, and now and dien a military re- 
con noisance, a pretty well defined road was being 
made that in time became known as the "Fort 
Totten Trail" 

The country through which the trail is located is 
a high and treeless plain. Within forty miles of 
the breaks of the Missouri the trail crosses over the 
Dog Den range, a spur of the Coteau du Prairie, 
the great divide or grass covered mountains that 
cross the two Dakotas beginning at Bijou Hills in 
South Dakoka, extending northwestward until lost 
in the surface depressions of the lower Saskatche- 
wan valley. The Dog Den had long been a sa- 
cred s^round and place of mystery to the Indian 
tribes who lived within the northern buffalo range. 
It was here — in the long ago — many of the lucky 
Gros Ventres sat and shared with their prophetic 
chief, the wisdom of heeding a dreamers warning. 
A sea of waters freighted with mighty ice fioes 
swept down from the cold north and submerged 
the occupants of the great Gros V^entre village 
that nestled in the big bend of Mouse river. 

Over among the deep ravines and canons on 
the north side where the mysterious ghost dogs 
snarled .uid growled at the cavern's mouth that 
led deep down through earthy crust to that under- 
ground land with evergreen pastures, but whose 
crowded condition led the beasts to seek outlet to 
the wide land above when the drowsy watch dogs 
snored in restless sleep, and thus the Great Spirit 
sent forth the fattened herds from the grassy sides 



\U)\<1 ToTTKN TUAIL, 262 

ot the Dog \)tin range that the Aricarees and 
other faithful devotees might hve in plenty and 
be glad. 

Around these elevated plains of the Dog Den 
country the buffalo continued in large numbers 
until about the year 1868, when they disappeared, 
and only now and then after that year that a herd 
could be seen th?re. In 1874, a band of sixty buf- 
falo were discovered near Prophet's Mountain, a 
butte ten miles south of the Dog Den, and a few 
miles west of that place, by a hunting party of 
Sissetons. The buffalo were surrounded and slain 
by the red hunters. The destruction of this band 
ended the buffalo among the lakes and buttes of 
the Coteau du Praire, with a very few straggling 
exceptions. 

Alter the flight of the Indians following the mas- 
sacre of Minnesota setders in 1862, the noted red 
outlaw Inkpaduta and his faithful band made their 
hiding camps among the spreading oaks of the 
deep and secluded ravines, and when a squadron 
of cavalry was sent from General Sibley's com- 
mand in August 1864, to search after this red 
Roderick Dhu, the mysterious caves hid him from 
the sight of Sibley's soldiers who returned to the 
command in camp on the Missouri, saying the wiley 
savage and his brood had fled without trail — flew^ 
in air or swallowed up by signless earth clifts. 

A very few years after, the P'ort Totten trail be- 
came a thoroughfare, the country bordering the 
Dog Den range became known in a gruesome 



263 Frontier and Ikdian Likk. 

way as "the land of strange disappearances." 
While Time in its own mysterious way eventually 
uncovers the hidden skeleton for all to view, and 
points its bony finger to the blood-smeared sleep- 
haunted assassin; yet several unaccountable disap- 
pearances of thirty-five, twenty or even twelve 
years ago, are as yet a strong box to the curious. 

The military mail on the Fort Totten trail at the 
first start-out had been carried by soldiers, but 
many were killed at some point on the road; and 
what was of equal importance to the military, the 
mail sacks were burned or otherwise destroyed. 

It finally became so risky that some of the best 
versed frontiersmen were employed to carry the 
mails through the hostile Indian lines, which for 
safety sake was accomplished by traveling at night 
and lying in some secure place during the day. 
In winter during the stormy periods the mail car- 
rier would then change his two saddle ponies for a 
team of dogs in tandem, hitched to a carryall. 
With such a rig the snow filled coulees could be 
crossed without much difficulty, and besides a 
stormy head wind could be faced with more com- 
fort and greater speed with dogs than by ponies. 

Probably no mail carrier on that hazardous trail 
ever acquitted himself in his duties so satisfactorily 
to the post officers at either Fort I'otten or Fort 
Stevenson, as a small wiry young Hiohlander 
called by his follows, "Scotty Richmond. On one 
occasion he was caught out in a fierce, sweeping 
blizzard in December 1867, while attempting a trip 



Fort Totten Trail. 264 

from Fort Totten west and reached a ravine in 
the neighborhood of Big Hollow where he was 
compelled to kill his faithful horse, rip his bowels 
open and crawl in their place, where he remained 
the greater part of three days, or until the furious 
storm had passed by, when after hidins: the mail 
sack he returned to the post for a fresh mount and 
a new start. 

The February following, he was again caught 
out on the trail in a bad storm. This time the 
wild and tempestuous winds kept up incessantly 
for nine days. He had started out from Fort 
Totten with a team of three dogs in tandem con. 
veying himself and mail on a light constructed 
carryall. His traveling rations giving entirely 
out on account of the enforced delay, he was 
compelled to kill and eat two of his dogs, and it 
was two weeks after starting, that the indomit- 
able Scotsman was seen by the post sentry at 
Fort Stevenson coming in from the overland trail, 
leading a solitary dog attached to a carryall. 

With all their hardships and dangers these mail 
carriers were poorly compensated, and what little 
they received were easily euchred out of, by the 
post trader or other hangers on around these mili- 
tary posts, for the hardy carrier half expected 
each trip to be his last, and consequently did not 
propose to leave any thrifty looking bundles be- 
hind for other people to fight over, if by chance 
these aforesaid people awoke some fine morning to 
to discuss the non appearance of the letter sack's 



265 Frontier and Im/Ian Life. 

traveling guardian in a-n*^in.#fifere^^\^y with the ' 
plilosophical conchision tenderly expressed, that it 
was a case of another mail carrier ''out of luck." 

But dangerous as the country was in those days, 
fool -hardy wanderers were continually roaming 
over the plains, seeking for the most part some 
imaginary place ahead where ''there were good 
times reported." Sometimes these men were 
alone and unarmed, depending in such cases when 
hostiles were met, on the Indian's well known an- 
tipathy to shedding the blood of an unfortunate 
lunatic. At other times parties of two or three, 
leading an old sore-backed pack pony, or enjoying 
the noteless strains of music produced by the 
wooden-wheeled Red river cart in motion as they 
plodded patiently along the dreary trail, following 
the hopetul packer in his eager search for the land 
of ''better times" — a will-o-the-wist that usually 
kep^ conveniently, a little way beyond. 

It was in the early summer of 1868, that one of 
these odd looking wanderers above described 
came driving Into Fort Buford from Fort Peck^ 
with a sorry looking old cay use attached to a de- 
lapidated, springless wagon as "outht." He was 
of German nationality, though he had considera- 
ble knowledge of English speech. His appear- 
ance indicated a man about sixty years of age He 
gave himself no name; told no one of his destina- 
tion nor from whence. Poverty was his plea, when, 
as was customery with the military posts at that 
period, he expected a litde help from the post 



Fort Totten Trail. 266 

commander to reach the next military fort, which in 
the Hne the old man was following would be Fort 
Stevenson nearly two hundred miles down along 
the Missouri river. 

He turned up at the latter post in due time, and 
as at Fort Buford, played successfully the role 
of the mendicant, and drew upon the commis- 
sary for another supply of provisons to enable him 
to pass over the trail to Fort Totten. His slow 
moving rig winding around near the base of the 
group of red buttes, a few miles below the fort 
and there the curtain dropped that screened the old 
man in preparation for his last stage act in life's 
versatile drama, from the searching eyes of the 
Port Stevenson soldiers. 

At this time the post mails between the four 
forts on this Northwestern line had been let out 
by contract and Charles Ruffee, a well known 
Minnesota contractor had charge of the line. The 
Ruffee mail carriers were of the best possible ma- 
terial for this kind of business. Among the mail 
carriers awaiting their turn when the old German 
arrived at Fort Stevenson was a light complex- 
ioned Scotch-Indian named MacDonald. Though 
somewhat unsocial, he was a fearless carrier and 
would never flinch from an assigned task in riding 
the danger line. He left the fort on the arrival of 
the upper mail, for Fort Totten, the day after the 
old German's departure, and with no apparent 
change in his rotine at departure for the trip. 

When MacDonald's mail time was overdue at 



267 Frontier and Indian Life, 

Fort Totten, his non-appearance was commented 
upon, but it was not until three or lour days 
had passed that the officer in command deemed it 
necessary to send out a mounted detatchmcnt to 
learn some tidings of the missing carrier and his 
mail. As the mounted reconnoiterers passed west 
ward along the trail, the whole country seemed a 
vast wilderness in repose. The very birds of the 
air appeared to have abandoned the land. From 
a spur of the Dog Den range they looked down 
on either hand upon lonely valleys. Even the 
antelope and buffalo left no recent trace and for 
aught these soldiers knew, had retreated again to 
their underground abode. Again the party pro- 
ceed carefully westward. Upper Strawberry Lake 
is reached. Its green waters in strange contrast 
with the blackened plain— for though but summer 
days, a dense blue smoke that hung low in air told 
the story of the fires' destructive work among the 
the cured grasses of the plains. The sun ?.s it 
hung low in the western sky — the intervening blue 
smoke made the day giver seem a big fire ball to 
the opUcs. Saffron colored shadows, lengthening 
with the sitting sun. and awful stillness about, had 
permeated the spirits of both horses- and men as 
they grouped along the dim trail in silence. A 
neck of land to the left of the trail was reached 
that divided the two lakes. Here a small wagon 
was discovered but nothing moving about it. A 
patch of grass that had escaped the general con- 
flacrration encircled the abandoned vehicle. At 



Fort T(jtten Trail. 268 

tht^ burned line the soldiers were horrified to see 
the dead body ot an old man laying face down, 
scalped, and his hands and feet dismembered. The 
wagon bed had been hacked and splintered as if 
in wanton sport. The fire had burned every trace 
of sign. As darkness set in the party went into 
camp at the shore of the lake. At daylight on re- 
suming investigation, about one mile east of the 
lake, near where the trail passed down into 
Horseshoe valley, where a partly burned mail sack 
was discovered with some crisp bits of paper lay 
ing scattered about, and a few yards further on, 
a buckskin coat also partly burned, and two or 
three holes through it, apparantly made by bullet, 
and blotches of unmistakable blood stains, 
The coat was readily recognized by the soldiers 
as the property of MacDonald. A thoroug^h 
search was then made for the mail carrier's body, 
or for other links connecting the mystery, but no 
further discovery rewarded the searchers, yet the 
conclusions were, that a band of hosdle Indians 
had raided the trail making MacDonald and the 
old German victims. 

Anodier tragedy on the Trail later in the sea- 
son seemed to confirm this theory. A party of 
(Mcrht men — U\a soldiers and two noted mail car- 

o 

riers, — Bill Smith the slayer of two Mexicans at 
old Fort Union the year before, and Frank Palm- 
er afterwards State Senator. The affair happened 
between the Dog Dens and Fort Totten at a place 
called the Big Hollow. The party had made a 



269 Fkontikk and Indian Life. 

noon camp; the sergeant and four solclicn-.s 
were huddled together examining a waich. when 
six Indians secreted near by opened fire and killed 
all four. Bill Smith was laying under the 
shade of the wagon, was shot at, but managed to 
mount his horse bare back and escaped on the 
prairies. Snyder the teamster was watering his 
mules at a spring, with Palmer near by leidi ig 
his unsaddled pony, when upon hearing the firing 
above him, looked around in time to see two In- 
dians making a sneak on Snyder, and shot one of 
them in the arm which enabled both Parmer and 
the teamster to escape by mounting their horses 
bareback and lighting out, the Indians being afoot. 

It was asserted at the time by some, that these 
soldiers were killed by Sissetons in revenge for the 
murder of an old man of that tribe by some mail- 
carriers and soldiers at the Dog Den. This ol J 
Indian in order to avert trouble for his tribe had 
betrayed the plans of some turbulent spirits to 
General Del^-obriand the commander at Fort Ste- 
venson. For this he was expelled from a camp of 
Sissetons at the head of Snake creek, and in re- 
turning alone on the trail toward the main village 
at Devils Fake, and was met and his life taken l-;y 
those whom he had risked so much to befriend. 

In recording these incidents the situation can he 
more clearly presented in' the MacDonald c:\9.<\ 
Not finding the mail carriers body, and a further 
knowledge from some Montana miners about who 
the old German was, started up an investigation. 
This man had ^40,000 in dust when he disappc'ared 



Im)kt Tottkn Trail. 270 

from the mines and had chosen this eccentric 
method of ekiding- the organized gang of road 
ae^nts. as the robbers were then called that in- 
fested the mining region. The failure to find 
MacDonald's body was made conclusive to some 
people that he had by some means suspected that 
the old man had wealth and had murdered him for 
it, and made a ruse to show the bloody deed the 
work of Indians. A squad of soldiers on their way 
to Fort Snelling with some prisoners two or three 
years later claimed they had recognized the lost 
niail carrier among a crowd at the St. Paul depot 
and on being called by name disappeared in the 
crowd. And further, in all the trading posts con- 
tiguous to the Fort Totten trail, no gold in any 
large quantity was offered in barter by hostile reds, 
• In the summer of 1868, when mail carrying be- 
tween the two f(<rts became decidedly interesting, 
John George Brown, whom we have already re- 
ferred to in the sketch of the War Woman, un- 
dertook to ca.rry the mail through alone by night 
rides. At his day hiding place near Strawberry 
Lake, he was surprised by Setting Bull and his 
band of Uncpapas, who were returning leasurely 
from a \Msit to the Sissetons. Brown was dis- 
armed, his horses were confiscated, and then his 
cloihes stripped from him, and with hard hitting 
welts from coo slicks applied over his naked shoul- 
ders was told in vigorous Sioux to "ke-ke-dah," 
so wended his way back to b^ort Stevenson in tiiis 
plight nnich to his chagrin, for next to his pride of 



271 Frontier and Indian Life. 

notoriety as a frontiersman, Brown had a hij^h 
opinion of his diplomacy that would "soothe th(^ 
savage breast." But who can say had it been 
some one other than Brown, he might have shared 
the fate of MacDonald, or the old German or th(" 
soldier escort at Big Hollow. 

In March 1869, Sergeant Major Volger, Ser- 
geant Bitman, and a private soldier called Shang, 
received their military discharges from the 22 nd 
Infantry at Fort Stevenson, and prepared to cross 
overland to S^. Paul, thence eastward by rail to 
their eastern homes. They hired John George 
Brown to guide them to Fort Totten. They 
bid Lidieu to their army comrades and started out 
hopefully under the soothing effects of a mild chin- 
nook breeze. After leaving the Dog Den, Brown 
became snow blind, and a storm coming on about 
the same time the party became separated and all 
perished but the guide. Sergeant Major Volger's 
body was lound after the snow melted, many miles 
beyond Fort Totten. 

In the autumn of 1873, James Wicker a well 
known old timer of Fort Berthold accompanied 
two men named Bagaman and Dickerman, over 
the Trail from Fort Stevenson to Mouse river via 
the Dog Den on a trapping expedition. Late in 
December, Dickerman returned to Fort Stevenson 
alone, and said his partners had preceeded him 
three weeks before and were bringing in some cat- 
tle found running wild, and feigned surprise at 
their non-appearance After circumstances point- 



FoKir ToTTEN Trail, 272 

ed to foul play, and it is probable that Wicker and 
Bagaman were made food for Mouse river pick- 
erel or buzzards and coyotes; 

The first ranch established near the Dog Den, 
was also the scene of a tragedy. A man named 
Moore in company with a woman claiming to be 
his wife constructed a ranch in a deep ravine lined 
with spreading oaks and directly north of the 
main butte. The pair were joined in 1886 by a 
young stock owner named Chamberlin. Early in 
the spring his body was found many miles from 
the ranch, with signs of having just eaten a lunch 
before death and with features dreadfully contorted. 
It had been reported at the ranch that the young 
man had started out to round up the stock and had 
perished in a storm. The circumstances of the case 
induced Sheriff Satterlund, of McLean County to 
effect Moore's arrest and bring the prisoner to 
Washburn, the county seat to stand trial for murder, 
but was allowed to leave the country and after- 
wards v/as killed in Montana. Postmaster Miller of 
Turtle Lake, though twenty-five miles from the 
ranch at Dog D^^n, was at the time the nearest 
mail station and office, received a letter from a 
prominent business man in a Minnesota town, 
asking information, by tenderly inquiring for the 
supposed wife of Moore as "one, once very dear 
to me." 

Another recorded tragedy along the Totten Trail 
was enacted in the autumn of 1884. Flopping 
Bill, a frontiersman of many vicissitudes— a mem- 



/ v-> 



Frontier and Indian Life, 



ber of the "medicine lod^e" at Tough limber in 
1869, described in the sketch of the War Woman; 
had been shot almost' to death by Indians; lost his 
red wife by a breach of confidence, and set afoot 
several times at his wood yard by horse thieves. 
With a command of fifteen reckless cowboys rep- 
resenting a cattle syndicate along the British line, 
Bill moved down the Missouri, and under unwar- 
ranted authority from this syndicate, hung or shot 
thirty men — many, or most of the victims leading 
blameless lives. From the Wintering river these 
licensed desperadoes returned with three men 
tightly bound as prisoners and encamped for the 
night at the Dog Den. One of the prisoners — a 
forlorn, friendless half Indian, had been carrying 
the Washburn and Villard mail for months through 
storms of winter or rains of summer with good 
word from all. After a melancholy night at the 
ranch, the captives tied together with ropes were 
led to a secluded spot of the third lake in the 
Strawberry chain, when they were shot down in 
cold blood and their bodies thrown in the water. 
Some years later two grinning skeletons tied 
with ropes were discovered by Colonel Low and a 
party of hunters, at that place and brought into the 
town of Washburn on the Missouri, but never a 
grave was dug or a tear of pity shed over the 
blanched bones of these murdered men. Such is 
life — and such is death — as shadowy forms follow 
on and on in successive lines to that far away time 
when loud trumpet calls will proclaim the dawn 
of resurrection and the new life. 




, Manifoba Pioneer Family 



FROM WBST TO SA2T. 

AFTER having watched from the galleries 
of the hall of Representatives, the proceed- 
ings of the North Dakota constitutional conven- 
tion from the opening to the closing day, in July, 
1889, I prepared for a long projected trip to the 
Atlantic's coast lands after an absence of tv^enty- 
two years, near the whole of which time had been 
passed in isolation on the plains or woodlands of 
the Dakotas. It was, therefore, with a strange, 
half forsaken feeling, when I took a seat in an 
eastern bound passenger train at the Bismarck 
depot at the hour of midnight, and passed swifdy 
Irom the sleeping city, and through long stretches 
of silent, sparcely setded prairies. Jamestown at 
the crossing of the historic old Riviere Jaques. is 
passed at sunrise, then Sanborn, next Valley City 
and later on the broad expanse of the Red River 
Valley, the greatest wheat growing district in the 
world. On eastward the train surges and thumps 
undl the beautiful Detroit Lake is seen — the 
dividing line between the timber and prairie lands. 
Brainard on the Mississippi is reached; cars and 
directions are changed, and the train glides like 
a section serpent through the dark forests of pine 
and tamarack that mark the country Hor'^ering 



275 Frontier and Indian Lift: 

Lake Superior tha greatest of our inland lakes. 
A few isolated lumbermen; some railroad em- 
ployees scattered at intervals along the route, and 
here and there the brush lodge of a forlorn group 
of the red Chippeways gave the scenes a variable 
turn as we were hurled along until sightingr the 
vast watery expanse, and the life and bustle of the 
•'Zenith city of the unsalted seas." 

Another day, and as passenger on the fine 
steamer China, we were plowing the pine tinted 
bosom of the largest chain of fresh water lakes in 
the world. Familiar, as I had been as a seeker of 
information concerning this region — had delighted 
in tracing the details of early explorations and the 
varied careers of its first explorers, my imaginative 
ideal of the country as dreamed over fell far short 
of the real as actually observed. Eleven hundred 
miles by fast steamer — traveling night and day, 
sometimes out of land, and even then stopped 
short of the terminal of the lakes' chain. The 
hottest days of July and August never change the 
temperture of the deep waters of Lake Superior 
— always ice cold. Heavy pine forests line its 
shores, and as we skirted the American sid^ some 
lurid conflagrations were in sight and dense clouds 
of black smoke enveloped us as we moved swiftly 
along. Mackanaw, old St. Mary,s and other 
places of historic interest were carefully scanned, 
and the changes from early historic times, noted. 

As the boat meandered through the narrow bed 
ot the St. Clair river highly cultivated farms were 



From West to East. 276 

seen on either bank; but more beautiful to me 
than stately mansions or rows of tasseled corn 
were the little low limbed broad leafed apple 
trees the sight of one I had not witnessed in twenty- 
two years. Passing Port Huron; passing British 
Sarnia; passing historic old Detroit, and the bois- 
terous waters of Lake Erie is reached. On sped 
the China signaling passing vessels by night and 
by day. Erie city is reached and passed; Cleve- 
land is passed, and on the seventh day the port of 
Buffalo city is entered; the steamer abandoned, 
and an enjoyable trip ended — and the only regret- 
incidents while in the ^[^ood steamer's care were 
the blackmailing insolence of its porters. 

Another ride in the cars and a stop for a day's 
recreation around the shores ot Canandaiguai, one 
of the most picturesque of the many beautiful lakes 
in western New York. Then, again riding behind 
the screeching locomotive, passing the lights of 
queenly Elmira at the midnight hour thence down 
the deep cut valleys of the forest-lined Susque- 
hanna until Pennsylvania's capitol came in sight — 
thence through the rich farm lands of the "Penn- 
sylvania Dutch," the thriftiest of America's farm- 
ers and people as a class who love the comforts of 
home life as glimses from the car window reveals 
the plain and unpretentious through roomy dwel- 
lings, large barns, numerous outbuildings and 
cleanly cultivated fields and gardens. Through 
Lancaster and across the stagnant Conestoga, the 
swift Octoraro, the stony bedded, bubble-chasing 



277 Frontier and Indian Life. 

Brandywine, when West Chester, the Athens of the 
Keystone State is reached. Here, twenty-eight and 
thirty years before, the writer, as a hopeful typo 
labored on the old Chester County Times, long- 
since among the grand array of newspaper "has 
beens." The town then as now the county cap- 
ital — but in those days a model little town of 3000 
people now numbering 15000. Then the town 
had four modest weekly papers — now three am- 
bitious dailies, and some half dozen weeklies to 
prod them along. On the morning of my arrival 
in West Chester, a reporter noting a contractor's 
crew on the construction works of a rail road en- 
tering the town, after explaining in his paper that 
in nativity most of the crew were either Italians or 
Hungarians, asked in wonderment, "Where are 
the Irish? Twenty years ago the railroad contruc- 
tion crews were Irish, now you seldom see one on 
the works." I could not answer then, I was a 
stranger there But I could have answered a little 
later on after having made a few trips across the 
county, where the railroading Irish were. They 
were in possession of some of the best of the 
Quakers' farms. 

Across the county by easy rambles presents 
new scenes and recalls almost forgotten events of 
an earlier day. Passing along roads lined and 
shaded with cherry, apple, peach, pear and the tall 
chesnut; beautiful gardens and conservatories 
filled with ferns and flowers, and fields of tasseled 
corn and sweet smelling "second" clover entice 



F'rom West to East. 278 

the strolling reviewer in tireless walks. Passing 
gloomy Longwood and its associations; passing 
Bayard Taylor's Cedercroft mansion — silent now, 
almost as a churchyard. Down along Toughken- 
amon hills, in whose primitive groves the writer in 
boyhood days "played Indian" by camping out 
amid leafy boughs or fishing around the old stone 
bridge. How changed in thirty years! Two rail- 
roads intersecting here — two towns, marble, stone, 
lime and kaolen quarries. On down over the hills 
of New London where the old brick academy 
stands as unadorned as in the earlier days of 
our deciplined, student career there. 

Down among the laurel crowned hills of the Elk 
creeks that send their clarified waters into the 
broad, briny, Chesapeake bay. Among these hills 
and vales, we rest Here, memory, kind or un- 
kind, in shifting moods, bid us linger. Changes 
in forty years ! The hills and valleys, creeks and 
rivulets remain much the s?.me; but in places hills 
shorn of their timber cover; old homesteads either 
remodeled, or been blotted out altogether and 
succeeded in many cases by more pretentious 
edifices and strange designs that mark the wealth 
of some new owner; but more often the case, 
smaller and less pretensions dwellings dotted 
about here and there that record the sub-divided 
farms. The chubby faced school boy and his dim- 
ple faced, rosy cheeked companion, have reached 
the time of wrinkles and grey hairs, while their 
places at the scholars desk, or under the swinging^ 



2 79 FRONTIIiR AND Il^DIAN LiFE. 

vine is occupied as of yore, and laughter, tears 
and song are heard on the school's play ground 
with the same hilarity or pathos, as forty years 
before. But save now and then a whitened head, 
the man and matron of middle life of our boyhood 
days, have passed to the narrow enclosure that 
mark the silent city of the sepulchred dead. 

Though a prosaic land and prosaic people, the 
robed chameleon of romance, here as elsewere, 
tinge the lives of those who have became 
drawn in the charmed vortex of its mysteries. 
Over on the Maryland side of the State line lived 
an old couple. Being childless, they were solicited 
by members of an orphan's aid society to under- 
take the care of two little waifs that had been 
abandoned to the world's mercy and rescued as 
foundlings in the streets of the great city by the 
river Delaware. The charitable, kind hearted old 
folks accepted the trust, and the children though 
at first when thrown in each other company were 
strangers, learned to be inseparable in their friend- 
ship. The foster parents were kind, the children 
grateful. Work around the farm was light in their 
more tender years and they had the advantages 
of regularly attending an excellent neighborhood 
school. As the children grew up together they 
not only learned to respect and love their foster 
parents but to adore each other. At the time of 
the writer's visit the boy and girl now man and 
woman grown, still cling to the old homestead, 
which they had beautified and adorned. They 



From West to East. 280 

had been dutiful children loyal in devotion to the 
unselfish benefactors, and when life's evening 
closed calmly around the good foster parents; they 
^ave the youthful pair their blessing, had en- 
joined them to wedlock and willed them the farm. 
On the Pennsylvania side ot the State line and 
within less than a mile of the homestead we have 
described, lived another kindly pair, well up in 
years, and childless, also. This farm, too, was 
beaudfully located on the foggy lined banks of the 
Litde Elk creek. The farm house surroundings 
were shaded with orchards ol apple, cherry, peach 
and pear trees. Groves of walnut, chesnut, stately 
poplars and spotted barked butternuts side the 
creek boundaries. In summer days the garden 
walks lined with flowers which out from their sweet 
fragrant bulbs and the white clover lawn, gave joy 
to the industrious honey bees that were domiciled 
in a circle of hives on benches within the garden 
enclosure. 

An orphan's aid society, here, too visited as a 
promising field, and had prevailed upon this good 
couple to take to their home a litde girl waif,— a 
tiny drift as it were, from the great human stream 
pouring out from the "city of brotherly love." 
Never could a homeless child have fallen in gender 
hands than this blue eyed delicate babe, when it 
came to the home of the guileless, tender hearted 
farmer and wife. A pretty face, a sunny temper, 
she brought joy and sunshine with her entry 
into the home of her "new papa and mamma." as 



28 1 FkOXriKR AND InBIAxN LfF'E. 

in exhuberance of childish glee she named her 
loving guardians. 

In quiet and peace the early years sped on in this 
orphan girl's home on the Elk farm. No child of 
fortune could have been more petted, though to 
others the georgeous show of wealth might have 
been lavished with more prodigal hands. Such 
was the little maid's life until she reached her fifth 
teenth year. She grew up a fragile, delicate blond 
"a shy, demure appearing little Quakeress," — her 
neighbors said, — when they told me the story. 

Across the creek, less than a mile away from 
the little girl's home lived another neighbor — good 
kind old souls that the writer remembers intimate- 
ly from his earliest day. The man, his wife and 
their family of children owned and cultivaied a little 
farm the right and title to which they had earned 
by economy and hard work Onct of the two boys 
of the family was employed by the neighbors 
"whom we have just described, and it was in this 
way and during trips to school in which both trav- 
trled the same beaten path across lots, that a 
friendly intimacy sprang up between the rugged 
lad and the little blond maid from over the way. 
Thoughtful, kind acts, lugging her dinner pail or 
books, won its way by degrees until she regarded 
his presence a pleasure either in public gathering 
or in the quiet duties of the farm. Attentions 
begun in this way so often follow along the 
line of rfatural law, that drifts into the inexplica- 
ble depths of the very soul of being, beyond the 

rescue of, and where the power of mind avail not. 



i^KUM V\ EbT 'iu East, 282 

The fragile, gentle minded girl, lonely from 
absence of childish companionship, in the nature of 
the sympathetic heart, would entwine with a tight- 
ening coil the object of her girlish adoration. 
The brawny, roistering boy with the inexperience 
of youth, ignorant of the subtlery of the w^orld's 
manifold ways, could not have, given much heed 
but the girl, unaware, perhaps, or unable to stay 
the promptings of a tender heart had centered her 
affection on the farmer lad, and in the trancience 
of mesmeric swiftness, had passed out of her reach 
or recall. An uncontrollable yearning for the 
lad's presence, the subde undefinable gratings in 
her breast, and every fanciful slight from her boy 
lover, threw her in morbid repinings, and all 
the kindness and care of her foster parents could 
not rescue her from a lethergic state of mind into 
which she had drifted. The bright lustre of the 
eyes, the hectic, flushed cheeks, spells of melan- 
choly that marked the girl's condition hastens our 
story to its end. 

The parents of the young man, (for time was 
passing,) had intervened. He was sent out in a 
western State and asked to live and forget, while It 
is said the girl was frankly told that her unknown 
parentage was the abrupt and unscaleable barrier 
that must end forever her hopes of becoming 
"John's wife." It was even said that John, him- 
self long before, had unguardedly told her the 
same, and this was the dead secret eating her life 
away, though she had striven so hard to forget it. 



283 Frontier and Indian Life. 

The young man was obedient to his parents; 
forgot all, and married in the west. But this 
information was kept from the stricken and de- 
serted girl. Her time on Earth was short now. 
To every greeting by kind neighbors she would 
perface her remarks: "Has John come," or 
'•Why don't he come to me, I am so lonely ?" 
Evasive replies fell heedless. She w?.s hoping 
as^ainst hope. In her sick room when unable 
from weakness to arise from her bed she asked 
to have her pillows so arranged that she could 
look out of the window to "see John a coming." 
Out of the window she peered day after day across 
the woodland strip that divided the farms. One 
by one, the yellow, seared leaves dropped from 
the intervening trees; the neighboring house 
came in view through the naked branches, but no 
familiar figure was seen, or no familiar footsteps 
heard along this pathway, and weary with watching 
and tired out with ceaseless waiting the drooping 
girl sank exhausted in her last, long sleep. 




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